The Things We Built
by maybesomedaysameen
Summary: Root is living the perfect life. She has a wonderful boyfriend and an amazing job. Then, Shaw shows up. Shaw has short hair, a motorcycle, a leather jacket. As they make friends, work hard, and try to find their place in the world, they might just fall in love. 50s Au, Super Slow Burn. (There is some Root x Reese, but she hates it and it's not the point, don't worry).
1. From Here to Eternity

Shaw slowed her motorbike and turned off the main road, following a sign for a Texaco. Reese had told her that this was the last gas station before his house, so she should stop to fill up. It was hard to believe that Reese owned a house, much less in one of the new suburbs so far from the city. He had turned into a real businessman. She spotted the Texaco up ahead and slowed even further.

The gas station was almost empty and Shaw stopped at the pump closest to the store. It was a cool March day, and she was glad for her leather jacket. It had been her father's, and the elbows were a little worn, but it was still a relief from the cutting wind.

Kicking her stand down, she turned her bike off and stuck the keys in her jean pocket. As she lifted her leg over the bike, Shaw unbuckled her helmet and took it off, hanging it on a handlebar. A breeze tousled her short hair. The area around them was nice, Shaw thought, looking across the station out onto the street. The towering movie theatre sign was visible in the distance. An attendant walked out of the small garage attached to the store to pump Shaw's gas.

"Hello, sir," he greeted her, assuming she was a man because of her short hair and masculine clothing. He wiped his hand on his coveralls and offered her a hand. "Nice to meet you."

She shook his hand. It didn't bother Shaw that people mistook her for a man. Most of the time, it helped her blend in and she'd gotten some work on the road because of it. Besides, it saved her from women who would judge a single woman out on the road. Mothers took care of her, but they didn't usually push their daughters at strange men on motorcycles.

"Sky Chief or Fire Chief?" he asked her. When she just gazed at him blankly, he chuckled. "It's all gotten so fancy hasn't it? Premium or Regular?"

"Regular's fine."

The attendant opened her tank and Shaw took a few steps away, pulling out a pack of Camels and tapping it on her hand. She wanted to smoke one, but she only had a few left and she was almost out of money. If she smoked them now, she didn't know when she'd get more. She let out a sharp breath and tucked the pack back into her pocket.

Coming out to New York had been a gamble, but it would have been worse to stay where she was. At least out here she could get a job in the city and blend in. It was a clean slate. Well, except for Reese. Shaw sighed and pulled out her Camels again, flipping open the top flap and pulling one out. She rolled it in her fingers, taking comfort in just the feel.

The gas station was on the edge of the new suburb, a mile or so away from the homes. Around it were a few restaurants and stores. The area even had a new mall. She sighed, stuck the cigarette into her mouth, and pulled her lighter out of the pack.

"You from out of town?"

Shaw looked at the attendant as she lit her cigarette. He gestured with his free hand to the duffelbag tied to the back of her bike. She sucked in, filling her mouth with smoke, and shoved the lighter back into her pack.

"Yeah," she said stiffly before releasing her breath and the smoke. "California."

He adjusted his grip on the pump he was holding in her tank. "That's a long way to go on a bike. How long did it take?"

She shrugged, taking another drag. "About a week."

He whistled and she turned her back on him again, smoking quickly so she could leave as soon as he was done. Shaw had enjoyed her solitary roadtrip, even if she'd only taken it to escape. It didn't surprise her how little she missed her hometown. She'd never been very happy there and it had been beyond boring since Reese had left just over twenty years ago.

When she realized how long it had been, she took a deep breath. Where had her life gone? She was 35 and had no career, no home, one friend. At least she was alive, she thought bitterly, taking another long suck of her Camel. That's better than she had expected.

A click behind her told her that the attendant was done. Shaw reached into her jacket to pull out her wallet.

"It's $2.70," the attendant told her, smiling.

She stared into her wallet. There was only a $10. Pulling it out, she spoke around her cigarette.

"Change?"

"Inside." He put the pump back in its place and closed her tank. "Go ahead. I'll meet you in there."

Nodding, she headed into the store. Her wallet in one hand and her Camel between the fingers of her other, she pushed into the small store, the bell above her head chiming loudly. It looked like every other gas station she'd been in on her trip, except for the fact that it was incredibly clean. She took the last puff of her cigarette and walked to the counter.

As the door opened, bell ringing, she stuck her cigarette into a small ceramic dish. The attendant walked around her to the other side. Shaw leaned her elbows on the counter and watched him click away at his register. When he held his hand out, she put her $10 in it.

"What brings you to New York?" the attendant asked her.

"Friends."

"It's always good to see friends, right?" He opened the register drawer and started counting her change. "All my friends have moved away from New York. I've thought about moving away, too, but I get so much business now with the commuters!"

"The what?"

"Commuters!" He grinned as he handed her the change. "That's what you call people who work in the city, but live outside it. Fancy, right?"

She nodded, trying to pretend to be impressed. "Yeah." Putting her change away, Shaw looked up at the attendant and smiled as nicely as she could. "You wouldn't happen to be hiring, would you?"

He frowned, apologetically. "No, sorry. Maybe in the summer! When the kids are out of school, we always get more business."

"Thanks," she muttered.

She started for the door, stuffing her wallet back into her jacket pocket. If she didn't find work within the week, she'd be out of money. Reese had told her she didn't have to pay rent and that he made more than enough money to cover them both, but Shaw had no interest in mooching off her only friend. It would be fine for a couple days, but then she would start paying him back.

She took her helmet off the handlebar and stuck it back on her head, buckling it with expert fingers. It was just past noon and she was getting hungry. Kicking her stand up, she took the keys from her jacket and started her motorbike. It rumbled to life and she drove out of the gas station, back onto the street.

The road to Reese's house was just one long straightway, an open road with grass on either side. In a few years, the empty space would probably be filled by new houses, but for now it seemed like developers were trying to emphasize the distance from the city. Shaw wondered if busses came out this far or if she'd always have to ride her bike the whole way in and out.

She reached the first house, racing past it and into the neighborhood. Even though she'd never been to Reese's house before, she knew where it was. He'd drawn her a map in one of their recent letters. She turned a corner, blowing through a stop sign, her empty stomach spurring her on.

On either side of her, children played in front lawns. Seeing them, she slowed down. She might not like children, but she didn't want to run any over. That would make for awkward picnics. She wondered if Reese participated in the neighborhood activities. It was almost impossible for her to reconcile her image of Reese with the fathers she saw playing catch with their sons.

Shaw slowed to a crawl, keeping an eye on the house numbers around her. When she got to Reese's, she pulled her bike to the curb, parking it in front of his lawn. The silence as she turned her bike off seemed deafening and she turned to find everyone on their lawns staring at her. She glared at the gawking neighbors until they looked away.

Quickly untying her duffel from the bike, she frowned to herself. If she thought Reese didn't fit in, what about her? Who was she to try and live here? Sighing, she pulled her bag off its seat and stepped over the curb onto the sidewalk. It only took her a second to hurry up his walkway and jump the three steps onto his porch.

It was a big house, she could already see that from the outside. Whatever misgivings she had, she couldn't ignore the fact that Reese had done well for himself. Very few people from their town did and she was glad that he'd been one. She knocked on the door.

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Root walked slowly through the produce section of the A&P, her small basket grasped lightly in her recently manicured hand. She stopped beside a display of peaches and picked one up, lifting it to her face. It was velvety and firm, smelling sweet and fresh. Four of them went into her basket and she started toward the dessert counter.

John's best friend, and new roommate, arrived today and Root wanted to make a good impression. Normally, she would have prepared this meal ahead of time, but she'd been overwhelmed with work the whole week. She loved her job, thankful to have the opportunity to work on the cutting edge of computer technology and help propel their society into the future. It was her coworkers that she had trouble with.

Root stepped to the side, allowing a pregnant woman to push her cart past. Other than the secretaries, Root was the only woman in the office. The men looked down on her and the secretaries thought she looked down on them. She often ate lunch alone.

So, when John had told her that his best friend was a woman and would need friends to help make her transition to New York easier, Root was thrilled. She loved John, but he wasn't always interesting conversation and he spent a good deal of a time with his boss, climbing the social ladder. Root was incredibly excited to have some female companionship.

The dessert counter was busy, as it always was on a Saturday afternoon, and Root took her place at the end of the winding line of women waiting to be helped. It was convenient to have a supermarket close to John's house, but the bevy of wives tested Root's patience. She was transferring her basket from one hand to another when someone bumped into her.

"Excuse me," the woman gasped as Root stumbled forward. "Are you alright?"

Righting herself, one hand on a small stand of bread rolls, Root frowned and looked towards her assailant. It was Grace, Mr. Finch's wife. Instantly, Root smiled disarmingly, turning on the charm for her boss' wife.

"Mrs. Finch," Root said cheerfully, "I'm so sorry! I wasn't paying attention."

"No, no, it was my fault." Grace waved one hand dismissively. She took her place behind Root in line. "I'm not used to this store yet. It's so large! I might keep going to Corey's until this all settles down."

Nodding congenially, Root faced forward again, taking a step forward in the line. Grace was a nice woman, impressively adept at throwing dinner parties and neighborhood cookouts, but she seemed to only talk about domestic life. Root only had so much to say about the new 7/11 or the latest Frigidaire. If Grace would like to talk about Drum Memory or Integrated Circuits, Root was more than willing to host.

"Have you heard about Mr. Reese's new roommate?" Grace asked, getting Root's attention with a tap on her shoulder. "I supposed that's a silly question. You've been together for so long. How long has it been now?"

"Almost four years," Root said over her shoulder. "Since your Christmas party in '52."

Grace chuckled, following Root a few steps forward. "I'm so glad to be involved! You two are a beautiful couple."

"Thank you."

Only two women left in front of her, Root briefly considered abandoning dessert and starting for home. Surely John's friend would understand that it was busy around here and Root was too eager to meet her to wait for a carrot cake. Root moved up a place in line and decided to stay.

As much as this was about meeting Sameen, it was about impressing John, too. They'd been together for so long now and Root figured that marriage was on the horizon. It was for the best, she supposed, marrying him would give her some stability and let her quit her job and work on personal projects. She just wasn't sure if she wanted to quit her job.

If she truly loved him, and she did, then it shouldn't be a difficult decision, but it was. Root had worked so hard and it felt foolish to throw it all away on a man. Not for the first time, she wondered if she should call it off with John. She did love him, but there wasn't the spark she'd always imagined. It just felt safe and comfortable.

Maybe she was being silly thinking about ending a safe and stable relationship with a good, hard-working man, but sometimes she felt like she wanted more, like something was missing. The woman in front of her walked to the counter, and then Root was next. Behind her, Grace hummed idly, her foot tapping along to the beat in her head.

It would do Root some good to have another woman in her life, someone she'd be closer to than a coworker or her boss' wife. Perhaps Sameen had a beau of her own and Root could confide in her some of her worries. Then again, Root thought, Sameen might have her eye on John, too.

The baker behind the dessert counter waved Root forward and she closed the distance between them in a few quick steps.

"A carrot cake, please," Root requested, smiling. "Just a small one."

The baker nodded and turned away to his shelves of cakes. Root ran her hand along the glass display case in front of her, taking in the beautiful holiday cakes. What if Sameen was better than Root was? Not with computers or math, of course, but with womanly work. If Sameen could bake, clean, mend, cook, then what good would Root be to John?

Had Sameen moved out here to replace her? What had happened in California that she had had to come all this way? John had been quick to accept her request and offer her a room in his house. Root felt her stomach churn with anxiety. She had just been lamenting the static nature of her relationship, but now she was afraid she might lose it altogether and have to find another man who gave her as much freedom and respect as John did.

"Here you go," the baker said to her, lifting the carrot cake over the counter. "Have a good evening."

"Thank you."

Gently placing the cake into her basket, Root started away from the counter, smiling at Grace as she walked past. Before she could get too far, Grace called out to her.

"Oh, Root!"

Keeping herself from sighing loudly and giving away her impatience, Root glanced back. "Yes?"

"Harold's out waiting in the car, if you'd like a ride home." Grace smiled kindly, making Root feel bad for being annoyed. "I know it's a long walk."

Root relaxed a bit, happy to have a distraction from her worries about John and Sameen. She would have spent the entire walk seething. At least Grace's idle chatter would keep her mind from wandering.

"I would appreciate that," Root said, moving out of the aisle and leaning against a shelf to wait. "Thank you."

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A shadow passed on the other side of the three glass panes set into the front door. It opened to reveal Reese like Shaw had never seen him before. He was wearing khakis, clean pressed and pristine. His button down shirt was hidden behind a light blue sweater vest and his hair was impeccably neat.

Shaw snorted loudly, tossing him her bag and smirking when he stumbled backwards under the weight. "You look like our high school principal."

"Nice to see you again, too," Reese replied wryly. He stepped back into the house, opening the door wider. "You look like James Dean."

"It's too soon to joke about that," Shaw chastised him, pointing a finger in his face as she walked into the house. "It was a tragedy."

She stepped out of the entrance way and into the living room. Taking in the house, she whistled, impressed. His house was much larger than the ones they'd grown up in. The living room was bi-level, the bottom level had couches and the television and the upper level, two steps up, had a dining table, fresh flowers in a vase set up neatly. She could see the archway to the kitchen across the living room.

"Nice pad," Shaw said, looking back at him. "You own this place?"

He straightened up, pleased with himself. "Paid in cash. Not too bad, huh?"

"Not bad at all." She spread her hands. "Where's my room?"

"Upstairs."

Shaw looked around, but didn't see any stairs. Reese pulled open a door that she'd assumed was a hall closet. He ducked through the doorframe and start up the staircase. Frowning, she followed him. It seemed odd to hide the stairs away, but Shaw held her tongue and left the door open behind them.

Reese had to duck the whole way up, his stiff hair brushing the roof of the small staircase. When they reached the second floor, he turned left and disappeared. Shaw jogged up the last few steps and into the hallway. There were three doors up here, the one at the end of the hall open.

She headed that way, assuming that was where Reese had gone. Outside, in front of the house, Shaw had felt out of place. Inside the house didn't feel much better, but hopefully it would feel like a home later. Shaking her head, she reminded herself that she was only staying here until she got a place of her own in the city. She wasn't going to mooch.

Walking into her bedroom, Shaw froze. "Wow. It's…"

Reese sighed loudly, placing her bag on the floor by her bed. "It's very feminine. I know."

Shaw's bedroom looked like it had been designed for the cover of Better Homes and Gardens. The walls were a soft lilac, with white linen curtains and a large white rug covering the wooden floor. Her bed, with one of the newer 'Queen' mattresses, had a soft lilac bedspread that matched the walls. White and blue flowers covered the decorative pillows that took up half the bed. Her desk and dressers were light wood, looking new and unused, too.

"Did…you buy all of this?" Shaw asked, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets. "New?"

Reese grinned. "Yes, ma'am. Delivered by Sears. I wasn't going to saddle you with hand-me-downs."

She strolled casually into the room, pretending to take it all in. Reese had been a lawyer for years now, but this was the first time Shaw really saw how much money he made. He owned a house with all new furniture. She owned her motorcycle, which she had built herself, and the clothing in her duffelbag. It made her angry to see how dependent she was.

"You didn't have to," she almost sneered. "I could have bought my own things." Reese looked hurt and she rolled her eyes. "Thanks."

"I don't think Root would have given up the opportunity to prepare your room for you."

Suddenly, Shaw remembered Reese's girlfriend. They had never met and now Shaw was dreading their inevitable forced friendship. Reese had described Root in his letters as gorgeous and intelligent, but Shaw wasn't sure she bought it. When they were younger, Reese would let girls walk all over him; if they wanted to date him, he would date them until they got sick of him. He wasn't a great judge of character.

She also knew that Root worked with computers, but Reese had never given many details. He honestly, probably, had no idea what Root did. Shaw decided it didn't really matter. She could play nice with Reese's girlfriend without having to be her best friend. Shaw planned to spend most of her time in the city anyway.

"Alright," Shaw breathed, "show me the rest so we can eat."

Reese nodded and walked past her out of the room. "Root is picking food up from the A&P. She'll be here soon."

"I'll eat anything she puts in front of me."

Chuckling, Reese opened the door to the left of Shaw's. There was another bedroom inside, bigger than Shaw's. It had a smaller bed and a large desk that faced the window. She walked closer to take a look. The desk was a dream. There was a standing magnifying glass and a table vice. A soldering iron sat on a small stand, plug coiled next to it.

The desk also had a stack of notebooks, pages crinkled from frequent use. A toolbox sat open on one side and Shaw could see spools of copper wire, various hand tools, and a small box of nuts, bolts, and gears. A few projects sat out and Shaw could tell that someone was putting together a small self-powered car.

She turned to Reese, eyebrows raised in surprise. "When did you get into building? I didn't know you even knew what a soldering iron was."

"I don't," Reese answered as he leaned against the doorframe. "That's Root's workstation. She does," he waved a hand at the desk, "that."

"Wow," Shaw muttered to herself. She shrugged, trying not to be too impressed. A lot of people could tinker. "Next room."

Reese smiled and pivoted around the doorframe. "The bathroom is next."

"Oh good," Shaw snorted. "You can just point to the door."

She followed him down the hall, watching him point to the right at the closed bathroom door. After that, they headed back downstairs. As Reese walked back into the living room, Shaw took her jacket off, hanging it on a hook by the door. Reese's house had central air, something Shaw knew she'd be grateful for in a couple of months.

"The kitchen is through there," Reese said, pointing through the doorway Shaw had seen before. He pointed the other way. "My room is right there, so don't stomp too hard on the stairs if you come in late."

"No promises," she joked. Her stomach grumbled and she pressed a hand against her abs. "Can we eat something before Root gets here? I'm starving."

"How about a beer?"

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Root leaned close to the window to look out as Mr. Finch turned the corner onto their street. There was a motorcycle in front of John's house. She'd never been this close to one in person before. It had always been a dream of hers to ride one, to feel a little wild, but she hadn't known someone who owned one.

Mr. Finch slowed as he passed it. "I don't recognize the model," he said thoughtfully. "I'd say it was an Indian Chief, but they stopped making those years ago. It must be made from parts."

Root sighed dreamily. She would pay anything to learn how to make a motorcycle by hand. When one drove by her in the city, she always thought they sounded primal, roaring and growling. Mr. Finch pulled into his driveway and Root turned to glance at it out of the back window. Did John know who made that?

The car stopped and Root faced forward again, unbuckling her seatbelt and picking up the two grocery bags beside her. Mr. Finch climbed out of his seat and started around the car. He took a moment to walk around the front, his war injury slowing him down. Stopping beside Grace, he opened her door.

Once she was out and he'd closed the door, he moved to Root's door and pulled it open.

"Thank you," Root said, picking up the cake in her lap with her free hand.

She lifted her knees and moved her feet out of the car, trying to maintain as much dignity as possible. Since the weather was warming, she'd started wearing shorter skirts, but when she climbed out of the car, her skirt tended to rise almost above her knees. Thankfully, her silk stockings breathed and she could wear them in warm weather to stay modest.

Mr. Finch smiled at her as she stood on the sidewalk. "Say hello to John for me."

"I will, Mr. Finch. Thank you again for the ride."

"Not a problem."

They waved and Root started down the sidewalk towards John's house. It had been weird at first, to have the same boss as her boyfriend, but she and John would never have met otherwise. Mr. Finch had thrown a Christmas party and invited the employees of his Law Office, where John worked, and his Computer Lab where Root worked. He'd been the reason that John had bought this house.

Root reached the motorcycle and stopped for a moment to admire it closely. It was dirty, the leather seat patched and worn, and the tires muddy. The motorcycle was well-loved and that made Root even more interested. This wasn't a show piece; it was someone's companion.

Rolling her eyes at herself, she pulled herself out of her romantic fog and started up the walkway to the front door. It was unlocked, so Root just let herself in, her grocery bags bumping lightly against the doorframe as she reached for the handle. As soon as she opened it and stepped into the entrance way, she heard laughter from the kitchen.

It made her smile to hear John laughing. He could be serious, prone to brooding and stoic introspection, and Root was pleasantly surprised to hear him being carefree. It did bring back her nervousness about Sameen and her new place in their life. She stepped out of her high heels, leaving them neatly beside their small table, and started toward the kitchen.

When she entered, she saw two people with their backs to her, looking out the window above the breakfast booth. One was John and one was a small man. Root stopped in her tracks. The shorter man was fit, his shoulders pulling the back of his white t-shirt taut against his back. As he lifted a beer bottle to his lips, Root watched back muscles move and she swallowed.

His hair was messy, like he'd gone too long without a haircut and the thick, black hair had started to curl against his head. His firm legs were clad in denim like a worker, and Root's body started to feel feverish. She put her grocery bags and cake down on the counter and the noise made the men look towards her.

John's guest had feminine features. His lashes were long and thick and his eyes were deep and dark. Root's own eyes fluttered as she took in full lips. Her eyes dropped further to his arms and she sucked in a breath through her nose as she took in the way the white sleeves of his t-shirt strained against tan biceps.

Then, the man turned fully and Root caught sight of breasts. This was Sameen, John's friend. Her face grew hot and she pressed a cool hand to her chest. She wasn't sure what was happening to her. At the store, she'd felt fine, but now that she was standing in front of Sameen, she felt ill.

She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. Glancing at Sameen, she found the new woman staring back at her with those penetrating eyes, slightly wide and slightly wild. Sameen was muscular and handsome in a way Root had never seen in a woman before. She cleared her throat and strode across the room, her hand outstretched.

"Hello! You must be Sameen," Root greeted.

Sameen put her beer bottle on the table behind her and wiped her hand on her jeans. She shook Root's hand. "And you must be Root."

Root almost jumped when Sameen's hands touched hers. The new woman's palm was rough and calloused against Root's smooth skin. It felt like she was burning where they touched. Root dropped Sameen's hand and took a step back.

"I'm so glad to finally meet you," Root said, smiling. "John's told me… Well, he's told me almost nothing, but I'm still glad you're here."

Shaw leaned back against the table, resting her butt against the edge, and picked up her beer again. "Yeah. Nice to meet you, too."

Turning around, Root took another deep breath. The stress of a new woman in John's life was really getting to her. She might need to go back to her own apartment in the city and leave the two of them to spend time together. The thought didn't make her feel better.

"I brought dinner," Root said, pulling the small tubs she'd bought out of her bags. "Nothing special, but I didn't have time to cook. I was called into the office this morning."

"Oh," Sameen said, frowning, "you shouldn't have bothered if you were busy. I'm not a special guest."

Root waved the comment away, placing the peaches she'd bought on the counter and then moving around the kitchen to pull down plates and cups. "I don't mind. I usually cook for John, so this was the least I could do, really."

"Well…" Sameen toasted her with the beer bottle. "Thanks."

Root set three plates out on the long counter and pulled a serving spoon from the drawer in front of her. "So, John didn't tell me what brought you to New York."

Footsteps told her that Sameen was walking closer, her work boots making heavy steps. "I didn't have much to do anymore."

Root spooned mashed potatoes on their plates. "In California?"

"Yeah." Sameen appeared in her field of vision and leaned against the counter. "Nothing for me there."

"New York City is full of opportunity!" Root put the container of potatoes down and picked up her green beans. "Do you have any plans?"

Sameen frowned and Root saw that she'd hit a sore spot. Despite what she'd said, John had told her a little bit about Sameen. She'd had a rough life, orphaned young and raised on the streets. Sameen was bright and driven, but she hadn't done anything with it. Root hoped that New York City would give Sameen what she needed.

"Don't worry about it," Root laughed, saving Sameen from answering. "I'm bad at planning, too!" She lifted the green beans she was spooning onto plates as an example. "I'm sure it won't take you long to figure something out."

"I saw your desk upstairs," Sameen said abruptly. "You like building?"

Root looked at her surprised, putting down the container in her hands. "I do. It's nothing much, but it's nice to tinker and experiment. Do you build?"

"Mechanics, mostly." Sameen answered. She tossed her head back, drinking the last of her beer, and set the empty bottle onto the counter. "Cars, motorcycles, even bus-"

"Motorcycles?" Root interrupted. She turned her attention fully to Sameen. "Is the bike out front yours? It's beautiful."

Sameen stared at her like she had three heads. "It is. Mine. I put it together."

"That's amazing!" Root grinned at her and Sameen shifted awkwardly, leaning away from her. "I'm always in awe of mechanics, working with your hands like that. I work with computers, but punchcards aren't exactly motor oil."

A throat cleared and Root and Sameen both looked at John, who had sat in the breakfast booth. He patted his stomach and Root chuckled. She'd stopped getting dinner ready to talk to Sameen and John was hungry. She made a mental note to bring up the motorcycle again later. Maybe she could convince Sameen to give her a ride.

Smiling apologetically at John, she pulled the last container of food out of the grocery bag.

"Did John show you the backyard?" Root asked Sameen as she finished their dinner plates. "I'm so glad he found a place with a pool."

Sameen's head jerked around and she glared at John. "You have a pool and you didn't tell me?"

"Whoops?"

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Shaw lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling. She never slept well in strange places. Throwing the decorative pillows to the floor had been satisfying, but even with all the extra room, she couldn't fall asleep.

Root's question ran on loop in her mind. Did Shaw have any plans? No, she didn't. She didn't have career goals or ideas about what she was going to do. She just wanted to survive and maybe have some fun. First thing Monday morning, Shaw was going to drive into the city and find a job, or she would find a bar and spend the last of her money drowning her anger. Who did Root think she was to ask Shaw about her plans?

Sighing, she sat up, deciding to go to the kitchen for a glass of milk. Her room was dark except for the dim streetlamp streaming through her window. It wasn't enough to keep her up, or it wouldn't be when she was comfortable, but it did provide enough light for her to get out of bed and walk to the door.

The wood floor was cold beneath her feet, despite the house being warm enough for her to sleep in just an oversized men's pajama shirt. It was actually one of Reese's, left over from their wilder teenage years. Shaw opened the door to her room and tip-toed to the next bedroom.

The door was still open from earlier in the day, and she was surprised to see that the bed was untouched. She had thought that Root would spend the night, but the empty bed told her otherwise. Shaw had gone to bed early, leaving Root and Reese to clean up. They must have called her a taxi.

She continued down the hall to the stairwell. Because it was enclosed, it was dark and Shaw kept one hand along a wall as she carefully walked down. Remembering that Reese slept right under it, she took light steps. She'd let him think she cared about his sleep and lull him into a false sense of safety. Then, she'd pick a night to startle him awake.

Jumping over the last couple of steps, she stepped into the living room, bare feet sinking into the thick carpet. As she walked around the couches, she heard an odd noise. It was coming from the wall of the stairs and, as Shaw climbed the two steps to the second level of the living room, she realized that it was coming from Reese's bedroom.

She waited, her ear close to the door, until she heard the noise again. A soft moan floated to her ears, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. Root had spent the night after all, it seemed. Shaw had expected her to be more uptight, demanding separate bedrooms, but it seemed that Root was more progressive than she'd thought.

Another, louder moan, caught her ear and she rolled her eyes. Shaw had had enough bad sex to know when someone was exaggerating. Root's fake moans reminded Shaw of the teenage boys she used to sleep with, before she learned what her standards were. The fake sound cut through the door again and Shaw hurried away back to the stairs. She wasn't going to stay downstairs and listen to Reese fail to please Root.

As she climbed the stairs again, she thought about John's girlfriend. Root had exceeded Shaw's expectations. She really was intelligent, and her work desk made Shaw jealous. She was also stunning. Her dark hair hung in loose curls just past her shoulders, and her body was perfect. Shaw had been amazed by the long legs that stretched below her skirt.

Shaw stepped out of the staircase and walked down the hall, feeling a little bit better. She wondered if Root ever wore pants and what kind of car she drove. Did she drive at all? It didn't really matter, Shaw thought as she stepped into her room and closed the door.

Root wasn't available and so Shaw didn't even need to think about her. She climbed into bed, pulling the blanket back over herself. Once Shaw got an apartment in the city, she wouldn't have to spend any time with Root unless she drove out to John's.

Her traveling finally seemed to catch up to her, and Shaw closed her eyes, melting into her bed. She would be living in the city soon, sleeping with whoever she wanted and decorating her room however she wanted. It was going to be easy.


	2. The Searchers

Shaw stepped out of the 7/11 and pulled her almost-empty pack of Camels out of her jean pocket. The noise of the city surrounded her, replacing the quiet music of the store. This was her twentieth stop of the day, and she still hadn't found a job. When she'd voted for Ike, she thought he'd make more jobs, but here she was, squinting against the setting sun, unemployed.

Sighing, she tapped the pack against her thigh, reaching up with her free hand to drop large, black sunglasses over her eyes. New York City seemed to pulse with life. She'd never been in a city this large before; her hometown and the stops she'd made on her roadtrip were remote, mostly flyover country. In the city, Shaw finally felt like she had room to breathe.

She flipped open her pack and looked inside. There were only two cigarettes left and her lighter. Growling, she shoved it back in her pants. There had to be somewhere in the city that would hire her. She just needed easy work long enough to find a steady job, but, apparently, she didn't fit the image of respectability. Her long-sleeve button down, which had been making her sweat all day, wasn't good enough.

Shaw hadn't come all this way to change herself now. She wasn't going to wear dresses and grow her hair just for a job. Mooching for a little longer seemed a better choice than that. Looking around at the people walking passed, she decided to get a drink. She had seven dollars and fifteen cents to blow. That would get her drunk and pay for the bus ride back to Reese's.

As she started walking down the street to find a bar, she took her wallet out. Taking out the fifteen cents, she stuffed it in her back pocket, so she wouldn't be tempted to spend it on alcohol. Reese wouldn't appreciate it if she had to call him for a ride. Putting her wallet away again, a bar across the street caught her attention.

'Black Cherry' read a chalkboard sign out front. It looked closed down, the blue paint on the outside almost completely faded to grey. The outline of a small triangle was displayed in the window. Her mind set, Shaw stepped off the curb and waited for a break in traffic to cross the street. It was a little empty out still, since the business day hadn't ended yet.

Catching a break in traffic, Shaw hurried to the other side of the road, already tasting ice cold beer on her tongue. When she got to the bar, she stopped. The responsible thing to do would be to save her money and go back home. She could probably even ask Reese or Root for a secretary job. The triangle in the window drew her attention again and she pulled the door open.

A gust of cool air blew her shirt against her. The inside of the bar was dark and she pushed up her sunglasses. As she waited for her eyes to adjust, she rolled her shirt sleeves up to her elbows. The good thing about her shirt was that it hid her breasts, helped her blend in. While that hadn't necessarily helped her job prospects, it could help her if she was wrong about the place.

Blinking, she started towards the bar, her vision cleared enough to see around her. The room was small, just a bar and a couple of booths. The bar stretched alongside the right of the room, ending just before a hallway where she assumed the bathrooms were. On the other side of the room, against the wall, were the two booths.

A jukebox stood against the back wall next to the cigarette dispenser. Shaw debated buying a few to put in her pack, but she'd rather spend the money on drinking. A stool stood next to her, telling her that during busier times, she'd have to show her ID. She grimaced; her idea had an old photo, from when she still had very long hair, and she hated having to show it to people.

There were only a few patrons inside, a man at the bar, a woman behind the bar, and two women in a booth. Shaw sauntered up to the closest barstool and climbed onto it, the tops of her toes resting on the footrest.

The woman behind the bar threw a towel over her shoulder and walked to Shaw, her face guarded and eyes aware. The way she walked, back straight and hands tucked into the pockets of her Levi's, told Shaw she had come to the right place. The woman stopped in front of Shaw and looked her over.

"Can I help you?"

"I'll start with a Bud," Shaw answered, avoiding the real question. She rested her elbows on the lacquered bar confidently. "We'll go from there."

The woman raised an eyebrow, but turned away to pull a can out of the small fridge under the bar. "Are you new to the city?"

"I am," Shaw answered. She pushed her hair away from her face, reminding herself that she needed a haircut. "I'm guessing you're a native."

Grinning, the woman pushed an opener into the top of the can. She spun it around and pressed the sharp point of the opener into the other side. "Born and raised." She set the can in front of Shaw and leaned against the bar, a little more relaxed. "Most of us in here are. What made you stop by?"

"I know the symbols." Shaw smirked, lifting the can to her lips. She gave the bartender a small toast before taking a long sip.

The beer was cold against her teeth, refreshing after her long day of walking. Swallowing, she set the can down again and licked her lips. The woman across from her was smiling, knowingly, and Shaw rolled her eyes.

"Something on my face?"

"No," the woman said. She winked. "It's just such a nice face. I can't look away."

Shaw snorted, unused to such strong pick up lines. "Wow. This place must be very safe, or you just like danger."

"I'm Harper," the woman replied. She held her hand out. "This is my place, so it's safe and dangerous."

Shaw shook Harper's hand. "Shaw. I'm not sure what that means."

"It means she's crazy," the man at the bar said suddenly, interjecting himself into the conversation from across the room. "She's certifiable."

"Shut up, and drink your Coke," Harper jokingly snapped at him. She looked over her shoulder at him and stood up. "Don't scare away fresh meat, Fusco. We need all the new blood we can get."

The man waved at Shaw and she looked him over. He seemed older than her, hunched over the bar, and wearing an out-of-date suit. He seemed like the type of man who had more stress than he should, his curly hair needed brushing and his face needed a good scrub. Shaw raised her can to him.

"It'll take more than that to scare me," Shaw said, then sipped her beer. "Besides, I'm here to spend the last of my money, so you might never see me again."

Harper smiled sympathetically. "Out of work?"

"You hiring?"

"Can you tend bar?"

Shaw sighed and shook her head. "I can pour liquid into a cup, but that's about all I got." She took a long pull of her beer, gulping it down. Setting the can down delicately, she slid it towards Harper. "By my math, and I'll admit it could be faulty, I've got enough for 10. So, another, if you would."

Harper shook her head, but she took the empty can and tossed it into the trash can. She moved back to the fridge to get another. Fusco picked up his glass and slid off his seat. Shaw watched as he crossed the room to sit beside her. When he was settled, she held a hand out to him.

"Nice to meet you," Fusco greeted, shaking her hand. "Welcome to the family."

"Family?" she repeated, taking her hand back. "Have I accidentally joined the mob? Are the signals here different?"

Harper set a can in front of her. "Don't worry," she said winking, "you've come to the right place."

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Root stood in the lobby of her work, nervously tugging on her gloves, pulling them higher unnecessarily. She was done for the day, ready to go back to her apartment and make dinner. If she left now, she'd make it home in time for the 6:45pm news. Normally, she didn't care so much, but she'd forgotten to buy a newspaper on her way into the city from John's house and she didn't like falling behind.

She looked around the lobby, taking in how nice it was. She'd been working there for over fifteen years, but the size of the lobby always surprised her. Her job used the tenth to sixteenth floors of the building and the bottom nine were rented to other, smaller companies. That was probably why Mr. Finch kept the lobby so pristine.

Looking forward again, Root told herself to stop hesitating and just go home. The only obstacle in her way was the gaggle of secretaries that were waiting on the other side of the glass revolving door. There was a bus stop right in front of the building, and so they congregated there to exchange gossip before getting on the bus together so they could exchange even more gossip. Root usually waited in her office until they were gone, but she really was in a hurry to get home.

The secretaries hated her. Well, most of them did. The ones who didn't usually kept quiet while she was being teased. Nervously, she ran her hands down the front of her dress. She wasn't as feminine as the secretaries were; her dresses were nice, but she prioritized comfort and mobility over style. Unlike them, she couldn't sit all day.

Her job as a Systems Programmer kept her moving from station to station, checking punchcards and installing hardware. The only one with a private office and desk, she rarely got to use it. That didn't bother her so much, her favorite part of her job was actually interacting with the machines, but she wished the men would stop sneaking in there for smokes.

Nodding her head with determination, she strode forward. Her short heels were loud against the marble of the lobby floor, echoing against the walls and high ceiling. She pushed through the revolving doors and out onto the street. It was warmer than it had been in the morning, and she felt herself sweat a little bit beneath her wool sweater.

"Riding the bus with us lowly secretaries?" Martine asked with a sneer, cigarette held aloft in her hand. "Where's your towncar?"

Root crossed her arms, feigning confidence and rolling her eyes. "I ride the bus every day. Just because you don't see it doesn't mean it doesn't happen."

Martine took a slow drag of her cigarette, eyeing Root up and down. She pulled the cigarette from her dark red lips, leaving smudges on the clean white of the wrapping paper. Her eyes were always cold as ice, hard and judgmental. She crossed her arms, too, keeping her cigarette hand free.

"How nice," she breathed. "The college-educated woman slums with the riff-raff."

Root flushed, her neck turning pink. She was proud of her education and degree. It had taken so much to get out of her hometown and go to college. She'd gotten a scholarship, but she'd still had a full-time job as she worked for her engineering degree. These women had no idea what she'd been through.

"Give it a break," Zoe said, stepping out of the group towards Root. She glared at Martine as she passed. "No one's stopping you from going to college, too. Maybe daddy will even pay for it."

Martine just shrugged, flashing Root another dirty look and turning away. The group of girls all turned their backs on Root and Zoe, and Root was glad for the reprieve. She smiled gratefully at Zoe, taking a deep breath. Zoe was kinder than most, though she didn't always stand up for Root. Perfectly put together, hair and makeup always understated, but noticeably in style, Zoe exuded class and intelligence.

"Thank you." Root dropped her arms, nervously pulling at her gloves again. "I really don't mean to be uptight."

"I know, sweetie," Zoe answered. She hooked her arm in Root's and started pulling her away. "Let's walk."

Root let herself be pulled along, but glanced over her shoulder at the bus stop. "I'm actually in a hurry to get home. I'd like to watch the news."

Waving dismissively, Zoe didn't let Root go. "The economy is unsteady, Germany's resisting repayments, Republicans don't want women to have rights. Nothing's changed since last night. I promise."

"I suppose so," Root sighed. She turned to face forward and let Zoe lead her on. "Are we going somewhere specific?"

Zoe shrugged, her arm pulling on Root's. "I thought we could get dinner. We haven't spent enough time together."

"...We haven't spent any time together."

"All the more reason to now," Zoe answered. "We've been working together for years and I hardly know anything about you, but I can tell that you could use a good friend."

Root wasn't sure if she should be insulted by that comment. She didn't have friends, that was true, but she was loath to think that other people could tell. Most of her time was spent with John. If she wasn't with him, she was at her own home, working on smaller projects. Maybe Zoe was right and she could use a new friend.

"Alright," Root agreed. "John's best friend moved from California this weekend. Maybe we could have a girls' night some time."

"That sounds lovely."

They stopped at a crosswalk and waited for the light to change. Looking down the street, Root saw the old bar around the corner. Its faded blue paint drew her attention and she wondered how a place so run down stayed in business.

"Black Cherry," she read aloud. "We could stop in for a drink. I always see it, but I've never been in."

Zoe laughed lightly. "No, thank you," she said as the light changed. She pulled Root forward across the street. "That is not our type of place."

"What does that mean?" Root asked.

"Let's just say...they cater to a specific clientele."

Embarrassed to admit she didn't know what that meant, Root just hummed softly. "You sound like you know your way around the city."

They turned a corner, weaving their way through the foot traffic.

"I grew up here," Zoe said wistfully. "It's my home."

"Do you like it?" Root wondered at the odd note in Zoe's voice. "Would you leave if you could? Is your family still here?

Raising an eyebrow, Zoe gave her an appraising look. "I may be a city girl, but I know when someone's fishing."

Root blushed, pulling her arm away. She pushed her purse up her shoulder and looked away. "I don't mean to be nosey. I know I ask too many questions."

"It's alright," Zoe assured her. "I did say we should get to know each other."

She stopped in front of a restaurant. For a moment, nothing happened and Root lifted a hand to reach for the door handle. Then, it opened from the inside, a well-dressed man stepping outside to hold it for them.

"Good evening, Miss Morgan," the man greeted her. "We weren't expecting you."

Zoe passed him, flashing him a charming smile. "I'm sure there's a table we could commandeer?"

He nodded. "Of course."

"Thank you, Jacques." She looked at Root. "Come on, let's not let all the air out."

Hurrying inside, Root followed Zoe as she made her way to the back of the restaurant, confident and comfortable. Looking around at the patrons, Root realized that she was severely underdressed. Her plain cotton dress, with its pattern of white and lavender gingham, fell short of the silk and satin of the people around her.

Zoe fit right in; her fashionable, expensive dress and dark gloves made her look like a lady, and Root started to believe that Zoe was not a secretary out of necessity. The restaurant around them was nicer than anywhere Root had ever been. The walls were a dark red, and it was smaller than it seemed, only ten or so tables around the room.

Zoe led her to the table furthest from the door. Again, she stopped just next to it, and, again, a well-dressed man appeared. He pulled the chair out for her, waiting for her to sit, and took her purse. Root was so overwhelmed by the situation that she almost jumped when someone touched her back.

The man had come around to her side and pulled the chair out for her. Root smiled at him, tense, and took her seat. He reached a hand out and she gave him her purse. Watching him retreat, Root placed her hands in her lap, trying to remember the movies she'd seen where women had eaten at fancy restaurants like this.

"So," Zoe said, bringing Root's attention back to her, "you want to know about my family."

"Um," Root hesitated, "I was just trying to be friendly."

Picking up a glass of water from the table and taking a sip, Zoe eyed her. She put the glass down, her eyes staying fixed to Root's. "You're an interesting woman, Root."

"I- Thank you?"

"My whole family is from the city," Zoe finally answered. "I grew up here and I know it like the back of my hand. I don't think I could ever leave. I mean, I take vacations, of course, but I always come home."

A waiter appeared with two salads. Setting them down, he looked to Zoe. Giving Root a once over, Zoe ordered for both of them.

"The veal, I think, Mark, and a bottle from my father's stock. The '79."

The waiter gave her a small bow and hurried away. Root watched Zoe carefully, mimicking her as she pulled the napkin onto her lap and picked up her salad fork. They ate in silence for a moment, and Root took the opportunity to look around the room again. She wondered if John ever came to places like this with Mr. Finch. They'd never come somewhere this nice together.

"Tell me," Zoe said, "where are you from?"

"I'm from Texas," Root answered, putting her salad fork down. "But I've been in the city since I was eighteen. It feels more like home than Texas now, but I wouldn't say I feel as comfortable as you do."

"And you have your degree in engineering?"

Root nodded. "Yes. I got it back in '39. I'm glad. It kept me from the factories. Although, I guess I should have done my duty."

Zoe chuckled, placing both hands in her lap and leaning back against the chair. "Never do more duty than you have to," she advised. "Besides, we need engineers. I'm worried that Russia is going to send something into space before we do. You're doing good work."

"I'm glad someone thinks so," Root said, sighing. "I know I work harder and do more than the boys, but it can be hard to get attention. At least Mr. Finch knows."

"Will you quit your job when you marry John?"

Root's eyes widened. "Oh gosh. I- I haven't really-"

"Don't play coy with me, Root." Zoe reached for her water glass again. "You're not dumb and neither am I."

"Alright," Root said, "you caught me. I'm...Well, I'm not sure I want to marry John. I love him, but it doesn't feel like I expected. I don't know if he's enough to give up my career."

"Would he ask you to?"

Root shrugged. "I don't know. I like to think that he wouldn't, but he spends a lot of time with Mr. Finch, and Grace is the perfect wife."

Mark, their waiter, came by again with a bottle of wine and a white napkin over his arm. He put the bottle on the table, pulled out a shiny black corkscrew and began to pierce the cork with it. Root watched, trying to seem casual and accustomed to luxury. After he had poured Zoe a sample, she'd sniffed and sipped it, and he'd poured them both glasses, he left them both to toast and drink.

"I'm glad we did this," Zoe said softly. "I think I'm right about you, and I think we're going to be good friends. I can't promise you I'll change the mind of the secretarial pool, but I can sit with you at lunch."

"Wow," Root said, surprised, "a prize, indeed. Thank you." She hesitated, running a finger along the stem of her wine glass. "Is there something you'd like from me? I get the sense that this isn't purely altruistic. I trust you're paying for the meal?"

Zoe laughed loudly, covering her mouth with her hand. Her laugh made Root giggle, too, and they just laughed at each other for a moment. Root knew she had surprised Zoe with her frankness, but all of Zoe's double talk had been driving Root crazy. She sat back in her chair, feeling more relaxed.

"I like you, Root," Zoe said, grinning. "I'll have some request eventually, but for now, I think friends will do. And yes, I am paying for this meal."

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

"Alright," Shaw said, looking around the now packed bar, "Imagine this: I'm in her bedroom, almost naked-" Several wolf whistles interrupted her and she glared at them from her seat of honor on the bar. "My hands are just soaking wet and her father opens the door."

Loud groans and gasps filled the room. Shaw grinned, thrilled at the power she was currently wielding. After about seven beers, she'd found herself to be more talkative than usual, and the thrill of having a new person in the bar had made the regulars very receptive. Apparently, they hadn't had new blood in a while and their excitement meant Shaw hadn't actually spent any of her own money yet.

The groans died down and Shaw resumed her story. "At first, he thinks I'm a man. I'm still wearing my shirt and his daughter is in my lap, covering...well, you all are aware." They laughed. "He screams that I'm 'de-flowering' his daughter, which, by the way, was not true. Well, at that point it wasn't true."

She smirked at the cheers around her. Glancing down to the stool beside her, she watched Fusco drink from his fifth glass of Coca-Cola. When he noticed her looking, he toasted her and took another drink.

"Anyway, he goes to grab his gun, I grab my pants, and then climb out the window. After that, we only met at the drive-in." The end of her story was met with claps and Shaw waved them away, like she was humbled. "That's the end. I'm getting off the bar."

She spun herself on her butt, pulling her legs in to avoid Fusco and his soda. Carefully, she lowered herself onto the bar stool beside him. Misjudging the distance, she almost slid off, but Fusco caught her and helped her get settled.

"Steady," he told her, face twisted in a skeptical smirk. "No need to break your face before you have insurance to fix it."

She pressed a cool hand to her hot forehead and gave him a weary frown. "Is there any work in the city that will hire me?"

He sighed, leaning his arms on the edge of the bar. "What are your skills?"

"I'm strong, dependable, hard-working, strong. Wait."

"I might have a job for you," he offered. "We're not unionized, but we get health insurance, the big holidays off, and a bonus at the end of the year.

Shaw sat up straight, dropping her hands. "Sounds great! What's the job?"

"Hammarlund radios. I'm the floor manager for the land-mobile units."

"Wait," Shaw squinted, swimming through her drunk brain to find what she was looking for, "are you talking about Ham radios? You make Ham radios?"

Fusco rolled his eyes. "I manage the floor for a radio company. Look, if you show up at eight, the job is yours." He looked her over. "I'd go home now and get some rest."

Frowning, Shaw squinted at him, attempting to be menacing. His amused look told her that it wasn't as effective as it was when she was sober. Sighing loudly, she poured herself off her stool and managed to land on her feet. She gave Fusco a two finger salute and headed toward the door.

Remembering herself before she left, she stumbled back to the bar and pulled out her wallet. Handing a dollar to Fusco, she leaned close.

"Make sure this gets to Harper," she tried to whisper. "I'm going to come back here and I need to be on her 'safe' side."

Fusco chuckled and took the dollar. "Boy, you're a trip. I can't wait for you to meet Joss. She's going to eat you alive."

Shaw hummed, swaying slightly. "I'm not totally opposed to that."

She saluted him again and started for the door, making it all the way out into the night this time. It had cooled down some since the sun had set, but Shaw couldn't be bothered to roll her sleeves down. Looking around, she spotted a bus stop a hundred feet away and walked towards it.

It didn't seem like it was too late. There were still cars driving by and people walking around. The sky still had a slight glow and she guessed that it was probably only eight or so. When she reached the bus stop, she leaned against the metal pole and blinked up at the sign attached to the top.

Luckily, this bus would take her all the way to Reese's neighborhood. She sent up a quick thanks to the god of industry. Shaw couldn't believe she'd managed to find a job. Well, she'd managed to find someone who had a job to give. It was the same thing really.

In the past, her inclination towards women had brought her nothing but trouble, so it was a refreshing change of pace to find it had brought her luck. If she didn't need to be at her new job so early, she might have set out for someone to celebrate with. She wasn't too picky, a man or a woman would do, but given the reason she now had employment, she was thinking a woman would do the trick.

A loud hiss made her look up, and she was surprised to see the bus had come when she wasn't paying attention. It had been a long time since she'd been this drunk and she was finding her dulled senses annoying. Stepping into the bus, Shaw reached into her back pocket and pulled out the fifteen cents she'd stowed away earlier.

The nickel and dime dropped into the bus' collector box with two soft clinks and then she turned away to take a seat. It was almost empty, except for someone in the back. The only other passenger looked familiar and Shaw started for her. She didn't know anyone in the city, so if someone looked familiar, she figured it was worth investigating.

When she got closer, she realized it was Reese's girlfriend and her spirits dropped. Shaw didn't want to talk to her. The two days she'd known her had told her enough about the girl to know that they wouldn't be friends. Shaw had no interest in cooking or shopping or watching the nightly news. She did want to tell someone about her new job, though.

"Hey," Shaw greeted, dropping into the seat across from the woman, "Reese's girl."

Root started, pressing a hand to her chest. When she saw it was Shaw, she relaxed and moved her purse from her lap to the seat next to her.

"Sameen," she breathed, "what a surprise. I thought you'd be at John's by now."

Shaw got comfortable in the hard plastic bus seat, lifting a foot up and pushing herself into the corner, the wall that separated her from the back door helping to keep her upright. She looked Root over slowly, the passing lights that illuminated her gave her an odd glow. In the night, outside of Reese's house, Root looked ethereal.

Her soft features seemed sharper. Carefully curled hair hung just past her shoulders, bouncing as the bus drove over a poorly paved road. She was taking her gloves off, tugging at the end of white fingers. Shaw licked her lips, reminding herself that Root was off limits.

"I was looking for a job," Shaw finally responded. "Took a while."

Root raised an eyebrow, looking skeptical. "From the smell of beer coming off you, I'm going to guess you didn't succeed."

Snarling, Shaw lifted her free hand to give her the middle finger. Root looked shocked, but she just tucked her gloves into her purse and didn't say anything.

"I got a job," Shaw almost spat, "and I don't like your attitude."

"Well, I'm happy for you." Root leaned back in her seat, apparently avoiding the fight that Shaw felt like getting into. "You won't have so much time to drink on a Monday."

"What's your problem? You're not against drinking are you?"

Root sighed. "No, I'm not. I'm sorry. I've had a rough day and I'm taking it out on you."

Her apology surprised Shaw. It had been so long since someone had backed down from a fight with her that she wasn't sure what to do. Root's words made her realize her own misplaced temper. However much she hated her current instability, Root hadn't done anything to her. Shaw settled back into her seat.

"Yeah, sorry." Shaw pursed her lips, the apology uncomfortable to her. "I had a rough day, too."

They sat in silence for a while, just riding together as they headed to Reese's home. Shaw looked out the window at the city as they left it. The buildings were tall, lingering in the distance as the bus took them away, and Shaw told herself that, one day, she'd have an apartment at the top of one of those tall buildings.

She'd never wanted to be rich, but she knew that rich people got away with a lot more. If she had money, and power, she could be with whoever she wanted and not get in trouble. She'd just be eccentric, odd in that rich way. She liked men, but if she could get away with it, she'd have a string of pretty women on her arm, always a new one for every function.

It was probably for the best that she wasn't rich. Women had brought her nothing but trouble in the past. The bus took them past the Texaco station and Shaw sat up, swinging herself around and dropping her feet to the bus floor.

Across from her, Root was staring at her hands, fingers fiddling idly. Shaw didn't know what to make of her. She was smart, obviously, and she worked with computers and knew how to build machines, but she was also so ladylike. Women like that often looked down on Shaw and her appearance and hobbies, so Shaw had started looking down on them, too.

Root seemed like more than that, but Shaw couldn't figure her out. Root glanced up at her, warm, brown eyes meeting her own. Shaw snorted and turned her face away. She crossed her arms, impatient to get home.

"What's your new job?" Root asked, her voice filling the silent bus.

Shaw shrugged. Her buzz was wearing off and a headache started to replace it. "Hammarlund."

"Ham radios?" Root gasped excitedly. "That's amazing!"

Amused, Shaw smirked. "It's just factory work. I'm not designing anything."

"Still!" Root sighed dreamily. "I'm trying to build my own from scratch, but it's hard without proper parts."

"Getting anywhere?"

"Well, I keep the project at my apartment in the city, and I'm hardly there."

Shaw frowned. "Then bring it to John's. Seems like an easy solution."

Root grinned at her, reaching up to push a button on the wall of the bus. "I would, but I don't think John would like sitting alone when I spend hours and hours tinkering. I usually do work at his house when he leaves for meetings."

The bus came to a halt in front of the bus stop on their corner. Shaw tried to stand, but stumbled forward. Root stood quickly, catching her. Shaw looked up into Root's eyes, feeling even more unsteady.

"Careful," Root breathed, her cheeks pink. "You made it all the way home. Don't hurt yourself now."

Shaw pulled herself away, regaining her footing. She tugged her shirt down sharply. "Thanks."

Hurrying to the back door, Shaw waited for it to open, impatient. With a hiss, the two doors pulled apart and Shaw hopped down, landing somewhat awkwardly, but regaining her balance quickly. She took a step forward before remembering Root.

Turning, she held a hand up for Root to take and guided her down to the sidewalk. Root's hand was cool and smooth in her own and Shaw let it go as soon as she could. The bus doors slid shut and it drove away.

Shaw started down the sidewalk with Root at her side. She shoved her hands into her pockets and looked up. The streetlamps dulled the stars, but she could see them much better than she could in the city. Idly, she wondered if she could climb out of her bedroom window to sit on the roof and stargaze some nights, if the city ever felt stifling.

She glanced at Root. "I was going to say, on the bus, that I could take Reese out some time. So you could work."

Root turned to gaze down on her, mouth slightly open. "Really?"

"Yeah," Shaw shrugged. "I mean, he's an idiot, but I like hanging out with him. I moved all this way, didn't I?"

"Thank you," Root said softly, looking away towards Reese's house. "That would be lovely."

Shaw frowned. "Whatever."

She took a few more steps before she realized that Root had stopped. Spinning on her heel, she saw Root standing at the end of the walkway. They'd reached Reese's house and Shaw had walked right past it. Root pointed at the front door.

"This is our stop."


	3. East of Eden

Shaw signed her name at the bottom of the contract, officially employed by the Hammarland Manufacturing Company. Some of her regret about moving to New York left her and she felt a little more at home. Dropping the pen onto Fusco's desk, she straightened up and looked at him.

She'd managed to arrive at ten til eight thanks to Root forcing her to drink almost a gallon of water. Despite the awkwardness of their bus ride home together, Root had taken care of her and Shaw should probably thank her when she saw her next. For now, she would just focus on not getting fired her first day.

Fusco had met her at the front door when she showed up and led her through the main work floor. Shaw had never seen an assembly line before, and the whole work floor was covered in them. The machinery was quieter than Shaw had expected. It seemed like so many conveyor belts and sorting machines should be deafening, but it just sounded like standing next to a busy street.

Inside Fusco's office was even quieter. Shaw could barely hear the work happening below. The quiet was the only good thing about the office. It was small, just big enough for a desk, a few filing cabinets, and a couple of armchairs. Dark, with two lights set into the ceiling, the room made Shaw feel like she was standing in a noir detective's office.

"What now?" Shaw asked Fusco. "Do I just start doing something?"

Fusco nodded, turning the paper towards himself and signing below Shaw's signature. "Yeah. Carter will give you a tour and then set you to work."

"Great."

Fusco put his pen into the pocket of his shirt and headed for the door of the office. Shaw had worn her favorite denim overalls and an old tank top. She wasn't sure exactly what the dress code here was, but Fusco hadn't said anything, so she assumed that she'd hit the mark.

He opened the door to the main floor area and led Shaw out onto the landing. His office was raised from the main floor by a set of concrete steps. Shaw imagined that Fusco could stand in front of his door and keep an eye over most of the floor. She glanced at him and saw that he was doing just that.

He seemed to spot something and raised a cupped hand to his mouth. "Carter!" he called. "Get over here!"

Shaw noticed movement across the floor and watched a worker step away from her work station. When the worker turned around, Shaw saw that she was attractive, a little older than Shaw with an unamused face. Handing a tool to the person next to her, Carter crossed the floor towards them. It took her a minute to weave her way around the various stations and stop at the foot of the stairs.

"Yes?" she asked, crossing her arms.

Shaw raised her eyebrows at her tone. Carter must be important if she could talk to the boss like that. Glancing at Fusco, she smirked when she caught him looking nervous. Maybe she was a regular worker and Fusco was just afraid of her.

"We have a new hire," Fusco answered. Her jerked his thumb at Shaw. "Give her the tour."

Quickly hurrying into his office, Fusco disappeared, leaving Shaw standing at the top of the stairs alone. Carter rolled her eyes, but gestured for Shaw to come down.

"Alright," she sighed. "Let's get this over with."

Shaw hurried down the steps. When she got to the bottom, she looked Carter over. She was fit; even with her arms covered by a long sleeve shirt, Shaw could tell. She reached out a hand.

"Shaw."

Carter shook her hand, looking her over, too. "Nice to meet you. I feel a little better now that I feel your grip. I was afraid Fusco had hired some pipsqueak."

Dropping Carter's hand, Shaw frowned, trying not to be insulted. She usually didn't care about her height, she was used to it, but she hated that she didn't look capable. Spending years working on her motorcycle and doing physical work had made Shaw strong, but most people only noticed her height.

"I'm the furthest thing from a pipsqueak," Shaw answered, trying not to sound rude on her first day. "Do you need proof?"

Carter narrowed her eyes for a moment before chuckling. She waved the thought away. "Nah, I believe you. I see those arms. Let me show you around."

Shaw nodded. Taking a clipboard that was hanging from the wall, Carter led the way across the floor. She flipped through the papers quickly. Finding the one she wanted, she turned them down over the top of the clipboard and stopped walking. She smiled at Shaw.

"This is the main floor." Carter gestured to the large room in front of them. "There are seven lines and each one makes a different part. Upstairs," she pointed to the ceiling, "are seven more, and above that eight more. We make the most basic parts here, because we have the warehouse space. At the end of the day, we take our parts upstairs for the next step. Middle floor is the same. Top floor sends finished products back down to the warehouse."

"Got it."

She sighed heavily. "It's not complicated. Night crew deals with packing and shipping, so we don't have to worry about that. I'll start you in the warehouse, then move you up to the floor if you prove competent."

Shaw snorted. "I will. I don't mind warehouse work, though. Saves me from paying for a gym."

"Smart." Joss looked at her paper again and turned around, starting towards a door in the back wall. "Let me show you the break room and lockers, and then I'll take you to the warehouse."

Shaw followed her through the door into a lunchroom. It was bare and a little dirty, but that was what she'd expected. Seven round tables filled the room, with chairs at each, and the back wall was covered in metal lockers. Most of them had locks on them already and all of them were covered in markers and stickers. The wall opposite had a frigidaire, a double sink, and a microwave. Impressed, Shaw stepped further into the room.

"This is where you'll take lunch," Carter told her. "Thirty minutes, anytime after noon, but before three. Just tell the warehouse manager so he doesn't end up alone back there. You also get two ten minute breaks, but if you do lunch after two, you can't take one in the afternoon. Clock out for those, too."

Shaw put her hands on her hips. "This isn't a bad gig."

"It's a great gig," Carter said, her voice serious. "Fusco makes sure we're paid well and always lets us take days off if we need them. He's decent for a white guy." She stared at Shaw, her face carefully neutral. "He might take it easy on you, but I won't. Most of us have kids and we'd like to go home at the end of the day. You make it dangerous, and you're gone."

Holding her hands up, Shaw took a step back. "I hear you. I don't want to lose any fingers or eyes either."

Carter seemed to measure her. After a moment, she nodded to herself. "Good." Leaning against the sink, she rested her clipboard against her hip. "I'm serious, though."

"I believe you." Shaw smiled to herself. Carter simmered with anger and authority, and Shaw liked what she was seeing. "How long have you worked here?"

"About twenty years," she answered. "Since I was eighteen."

Shaw whistled. "That's dedication."

Carter rolled her eyes. "It's a living." She pushed herself off the counter and started for the door. "Warehouse next."

She walked out of the room and Shaw followed once again. She liked Carter. Meeting Fusco had been luck, but meeting Carter felt like serendipity. It might be too much to hope that Carter was like her, that she went to bars like the Black Cherry, but Shaw's gut was usually pretty good about figuring people out.

Carter pushed her way through two swinging, rubber doors, not holding them open. Shaw had to lift her hands to keep from getting hit in the face. Glancing over her shoulder, Carter looked at her with amusement.

"Fast reflexes," Carter murmured. "That's good."

Shaw grinned. "Oh, I'm very good."

"You should come out with us sometime," Carter said. "I know a great bar."

"I've been," Shaw replied, smiling. "That's how I met Fusco."

Rolling her eyes, Carter blew out a sharp breath. "Of course, it is. Man can't help himself."

"Nice to know that you'll be there sometime." Shaw slid her hands into her pockets, a slow smile spreading across her face. "That place can use some pretty women."

Carter just hummed, her eyes narrowing, and turned around again. "Cheek will get you nowhere. I'm not going to give you the tour back here. I stay on the floor."

Ready to get to work, Shaw took a few steps forward. "Do you know what I'll be doing?" Shaw asked. "The basics at least?"

"I think you'll be assigned to copper coil for now," she answered after consulting her clipboard. "Yeah, we need another hand to carry spools to the inductor line."

Shaw looked around the warehouse. It was almost as big as the floor, but instead of assembly lines, rows and rows of shelves lined the warehouse space, stretching up twenty feet. Various materials and radio parts filled the shelves. Shaw saw a box of tiny inductor coils, the perfect size for a Ham radio.

"Let me find Peter for you and we'll get started," Carter said. She walked deeper into the warehouse. "Stay put."

"Yes, Ma'am."

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Root put the last plate into the small drying rack beside the sink and turned the water off. She and John had had dinner together, alone, for the first time in four days and it felt good to fall back into familiar patterns. Reaching to the side, she pulled the dish towel from its place hanging on the handle of the oven.

She'd bought these for John's house shortly after they'd started dating. They were a pale green, to match his appliances. She dried her hands, thinking about the other things in the house that were hers.

She'd bought him a microwave when they first appeared at Sears. It had been a bit of a selfish buy; Root wasn't always in the mood to cook after work, but it was something John expected. That was normal, though, but it still made her wonder if he was too comfortable where they were. Would he ever propose to her?

The sound of laughter floating from the tv in the living room made Root look over her shoulder. Through the doorway, she could see John sitting on the couch, arms spread wide over the back. Did she want to marry him?

Her thoughts turned back to her career. Every time she thought about marrying John, she thought about leaving her job and her stomach started to hurt. If he was already expecting dinner every night, what more would he expect from a wife?

She sighed and turned around to hang the dish towel back on the oven handle. At least for now, she didn't have to worry about marriage. John hadn't made any hints and neither had she. They could keep going like they had been, not that that thought made her feel any better.

"Root?" John called from the living room. "The Milton Berle Show is starting."

"Be right there!"

She walked into the living room, stepping off the tile of the kitchen floor onto soft carpet. She'd changed into casual clothing before dinner and now she was glad. It was warm in the house and her legs were bare beneath her silk nightshirt. John had seen her undressed before, so she wasn't worried about propriety, and Sameen was a girl, so there were no worries there.

Going down the two steps to the tv area, Root crossed to the couch. She sat beside John, leaning into him and curling her legs up next to her. His arm came down to wrap around her and she smiled to herself.

"This is nice," Root said, reaching up to hold his hand. "I feel like I've barely seen you recently."

"Work has been so busy," he answered quietly.

She shrugged. "I know. I'm not upset. It's just nice to spend time together."

He didn't respond and she focused on the tv. One of the things that she liked about their relationship was that they didn't always have to talk. They could sit in comfortable silence and just enjoy each other's presence. Root had come up with some of her best ideas in John's quiet company.

Tonight, however, she was more interested in catching up with her friend than she was in the variety show that played every tuesday night. She looked up at John, taking in the still features she'd come to know.

"What are you doing at work that keeps you so busy?" she asked him. "A big case?"

He nodded. "Yes. I'm working a case with Harold and it's been stressful. I'm not entirely sure we're going to win."

Turning to face him more, she raised an eyebrow. "The great Mr. Finch and Mr. Reese lose a case? The criminal world must be particularly diabolical this time."

His lips tugging up in the hint of a smile, he glanced down at her. "The criminal world is always diabolical. If they weren't, I don't think I'd have a job."

"Then I thank them, I guess," Root joked. She rested a hand on his stomach, fingers lightly tugging at his cotton t-shirt. "They keep you in business, housed and well-fed."

He covered the hand on his stomach with one of his own, frowning. "Is that a comment on my weight?"

She rolled her eyes, smiling. "You're very fit, John. So strong."

"Alright," he muttered, "very funny."

Lifting herself slightly, she stretched up to press a kiss to his cheek, lips brushing against stubble. When she sat down, she pulled her hand from under John's and ran a finger over his scratchy face. "You really must be stressed if you're not shaving."

"It's a tough case."

"Tell me about it."

He looked away from her, back at the tv, and frowned. "It's...not pleasant," he said softly, eyebrows drawing down. "I don't think women need to hear about it."

"I'm not just any woman, John," Root countered. "I've heard the details of some pretty gruesome cases before. You don't have to protect me. I want to know."

John shifted uncomfortably on the couch, but he turned back to her. "A black man and white woman married, and he's being tried for it."

"That's terrible," Root sighed. "Honestly, that law is archaic. I hope Eisenhower does something about it."

"Don't hold your breath." John ran his free hand through his hair. "It's hard to defend him. He had a friend use forged documents to marry his wife in a church. The forged documents had the black man's name, so legally, she'd married him. It's more than just a miscegenation case."

Root looked back to her hesitancy in marrying John, suddenly glad she had a choice at all. At least she was with someone who was an option and hadn't fallen in love with an impossible future. She thought about Sameen and wondered who she would marry.

Sameen would have to marry someone who looked like her. It was hard to imagine that Sameen would become a wife at all. She didn't seem the type to settle down or do housework. Root had felt a little threatened before she'd met Sameen, but now she knew that her place in John's life wasn't at risk.

"Harold and I have been trying to find a way around what our client did," John spoke again. "Maybe we could argue that he was overcome with love and passion, but getting false paperwork is so premeditated."

"I wish I could help." She lifted her legs and settled them across John's lap. "Either way, it'll be done soon."

"It will be." Laying his arms across Root's legs, John smiled at her. "You'll have my full attention then."

She pouted, fluttering her eyelashes. "What will you do until then?"

"I...could...get you something nice?" he tried.

"I guess that's fine," she said, grinning. "How about a new dress? Something fancy. Use that salary while you still have it."

His eyes narrowed, trying to figure out if he'd been tricked, but Root just kept smiling at him. If he said yes now, she'd wear him down later and have him just give her the money so she could go out with Zoe. He finally relaxed and smiled back at her.

"You've got it." He looked down at himself, taking in his shirt and khakis. "Should I get new clothes?"

Root leaned back, trying to picture him in anything else. "Hmm, like what?"

"I was thinking of getting a leather jacket."

Chuckling, Root smoothed her hand down the front of his chest. "I don't think you're really the type." She tilted her head. "You could try black pants instead of khakis. They're more mysterious."

"You like me in a full suit," John teased, his mouth tilting into a smirk.

He leaned down to kiss Root, but she leaned away from him.

"I'm so tired," she apologized. "Maybe tomorrow night?"

He opened his mouth to say something, but the front door opening cut him off. Root looked at the door, smiling as Sameen walked in, half-finished cigarette hanging from her lips. She saw Root and John cuddling on the couch and rolled her eyes.

"Gross," she muttered, pulling her leather jacket off. Her eyes lingered on Root's legs. "Please don't do anything inappropriate in public spaces. I would die."

Root leaned forward, resting her arms on top of John's. "We'll spare your dignity."

Sameen rolled her eyes and turned to hang her jacket on a wall hook. "Thanks."

Taking her cigarette between two fingers, Sameen took a long breath before pulling it out. Root watched the way her lips released it and the way her mouth opened to let out white, curling smoke. Sameen's arms were bare today, her biceps and forearms on full display, and the rest of her was covered by dark, denim overalls.

Root wondered why Sameen's muscular arms seemed so different than John's. Was it because Sameen's strength came from real labor and John's were from exercise? She wondered if Sameen's stomach was like John's or if it was different, too. What did abs look like on women?

Sameen glanced at her, eyebrows drawn down. Root looked away, down at her hands, and pretended to survey her fingernails. From the corner of her eye, she saw Sameen put her cigarette out in the ashtray by the door and head for the stairs. Root watched her pull open the door and disappear behind it.

"Leather," Root said before her mind caught up with her. She blushed and looked up at John. "Maybe you should get a leather jacket. You're right. It's a good look."

John raised an eyebrow at her. "You've come around?"

"I have," she said softly. She shifted on the couch, twisting herself around so she could straddle John's thighs. She ran her hands over his broad chest, feeling familiar muscles. "You could use a bit of danger."

She leaned down, brushing their lips together. Kissing him fully, Root closed her eyes and pictured John in a leather jacket, trying to conjure an image of him looking dangerous and wild. As John's hands settled onto her hips, the man in her mind dissipated. Replacing him was a picture of Sameen astride her beaten up motorcycle, cigarette between red lips and hands tucked deep into her jacket pockets.

Root sucked in a shaky breath through her nose. She let herself think of Sameen, of sitting behind her on the motorcycle, arms wrapped around soft curves, her nose pressed into Sameen's neck, breathing her in. Hot hands slid under her nightgown and she groaned quietly into John's mouth.

She felt warm in a way she never had before. John's hands pulled her closer and she wrapped her arms around his neck, opening her mouth and deepening the kiss. For a moment, she could pretend that the body she was pressed against was slimmer, shaped like her, familiar in a different way. Root let the heat that was pooling in her stomach spread through her whole body and make her heart race.

She sucked on John's lip, picturing a fuller lip instead. Unable to stop herself, she felt herself push her breasts hard against his chest, grind her hips into him, whimper softly. The image of Sameen in her mind spurred her on. Did Sameen ever think of her?

A knock on the door made Root jump in her skin. Her heart pounded as she came back to herself, remembering who she had in her arms. She sat back in John's lap, eyes wide and body shivering. Looking apologetic, John moved her to the side, onto the couch, and stood up.

As he walked towards the door, Root tried to calm herself. She felt feverish and pressed a hand to her cheek. Kissing John had never made her feel like this before and she wondered what had changed. The image of Sameen on her motorcycle, hand outstretched to Root, made her shiver again and she pulled her knees up in front of her.

John opened the front door. It was Mr. Finch, carrying his briefcase. Root blushed at her bare legs and wrapped her arms around them, hiding them as best she could. It was so inappropriate for a man to see her half-dressed, especially her boss. She didn't want him to think she was too loose.

"Mr. Reese," Mr. Finch greeted, "I know it's late, but I thought we could- Oh, Root. I'm interrupting."

Root smiled at him, nervously. "Don't worry, Mr. Finch. You can take him."

"Are you sure?" John asked her, looking awkward. "I can stay."

"No, it's alright," Root assured him. She rested her cheek on her knee. "Your case is important. I'll be here when you get back."

He nodded and hurried across the living room, up the two steps, to the dining table that sat in front of the doors to the backyard. Root watched him over the back of the couch as he gathered his papers and piled them into his briefcase. When he was finished, he carried his briefcase down to the couch and gave her a quick kiss.

"Don't wait up for me," he told her. Crossing the room again, he nodded to Mr. Finch. "Let's go."

They left, neither looking back, and shut the door. Then Root was alone. She looked up to the ceiling. She wasn't totally alone; Sameen was here, too. Licking her lips, Root dropped her feet to the floor, and dropped her head into her hands.

What did it mean that thoughts of Sameen made her feel like this? She felt nauseous, her stomach clenching. Was something wrong with her? She'd heard girls talk about their boyfriends before, but she'd never understood it. John had never made her feel like that.

Now, the image of leather jackets and bare arms and lipstick-stained cigarettes taunted her. Sameen hadn't even been wearing lipstick, but Root could imagine she looked particularly dangerous when her lips were blood red.

Was she attracted to danger? She lifted her head, eyes landing on the television show that she'd watched none of. John had always felt safe and comfortable. Maybe Root was one of those girls who was attracted to danger.

That must be it, she thought to herself, the knot in her stomach fading away. She needed some excitement in her life. Making up her mind to buy John a leather jacket before the week was up, Root stood on shaky legs. She just needed John to fit the image she had in her head. It was only Sameen now because Root hadn't met someone like that before.

Telling herself that it made sense, she started for the stairs. With John gone, she had time to work on her radio project. She'd brought it to his house when she'd come over for dinner and left it upstairs on her desk.

Climbing the steps, Root debated inviting Sameen to work with her, but she still felt awkward about her thoughts earlier. She wasn't sure she could face Sameen right now, even if her imagining had been misplaced. Stepping out onto the second floor landing, Root listened for any sounds of Sameen.

The door at the end of the hallway was closed and Root could see light peeking out from underneath. She turned the hall light on. It had gotten dark outside and she wasn't interested in running into walls. It only took her a second to reach the door to the guest room.

Her hand on the doorknob, she couldn't help but lean to the side and listen at Sameen's door. There were small sounds that Root recognized as metal on wood. Sameen must be working at her own desk, on a project of her own.

Root wanted to know what it was, but she couldn't talk to Sameen now. She opened her own door and turned the light on. There was something new on her desk. Walking closer, she grinned and picked it up.

It was an inductor coil, small enough to fit into a radio. The copper was bright in her hands and she could recognize that it was brand new. Looking over her shoulder at her door, she considered talking to Sameen after all, if only just to thank her. She got the feeling that Sameen wouldn't like the attention.

Root pulled out the chair to her desk and sat down. She'd been trying to create a small inductor coil of her own, but she hadn't had quality copper coil. Now that she did, she could get a lot done. Thanking Sameen silently, Root started working.


	4. The Quiet Man

Shaw walked down the stairs, check in hand. She'd finished her first week of work and had been pleasantly surprised to find out that the factory paid every Friday. The first thing she'd done Saturday morning was go to the Wells-Fargo that had opened in the small mall near their neighborhood. She'd deposited her check from the factory and then written one to John.

Opening the door, Shaw stepped into the living room. Root wasn't there, but John's door was open and she could hear movement. Shaw wondered for the first time if Root kept clothing at the house, or if she had to stop by her apartment all the time to change. Root had been at the house every day that Shaw had lived here. Was she ever at her own apartment?

Shaw crossed the living room quickly, heading to the kitchen. Her plan was to leave the check on the counter for John and then leave. It wasn't near enough, but she couldn't afford to pay him any real money yet. She walked into the kitchen and frowned.

Reese was in the breakfast booth, drinking a beer and going over some paperwork. He looked up when she came in and smiled at her.

"Good morning," he greeted. "Well, I should say good afternoon. You don't wake up as early as you used to."

She rolled her eyes. "I was awake before you were. You're the one who's gone soft. Do you even work out anymore?"

"I...don't really have time to." He stared down at his papers. "There's a lot to do here. I try to get some basics in, but I usually only go to the club for golf."

Shaw leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms. "'The club'?"

He blushed a little bit and looked up at her, embarrassed. "The Diners. I have a credit card and everything. Not bad for a Mayhem boy, huh?"

"I don't think any of the gang would believe you." She shrugged, her face casually blank. "It's good, though. At least one of us made something of themselves."

She was glad that Reese was successful, but it annoyed her, too. If she'd finished high school, she could have gotten a scholarship like he did and gone to college. She couldn't have been a doctor, like she'd dreamed of, but she could have done something. Reese had been lucky and that wasn't his fault, but it still stung.

"You're not dead, Shaw," Reese joked. "You're not even 40. You can still do something."

"Yeah," she sniffed, pushing herself off the doorframe. "We'll see."

She started towards him, holding the check out. "It's not as much as I want to give you, but it's half my first paycheck."

He held a hand up, refusing to take it. "I'm not taking money from you."

"Reese," Shaw growled, "take it. I'm not living off of you again."

"Shaw, no." He leaned back against the booth cushion. "You don't owe me anything."

Slamming the check down on the table, Shaw bared her teeth. "Take the fucking money."

He sighed and shook his head slightly. Shaw owed him a lot and she hated it. After her parents died, Reese and his mom had let her live with them. They'd saved her from the streets and, when she'd been expelled from high school, they supported her even more.

After Reese left for college, she'd stayed with his mom for a while. Eventually, she'd moved out, living instead with various members of their gang. He'd kept in touch with her when he didn't have to. Even when he was fighting in Italy, they corresponded. Now, he wasn't letting her pay him back.

"I don't need the money." He held his arms wide, shrugging. "Not to sound like a prick, but I don't need the money. Keep it for yourself. Save it."

"You sound like a prick." She pushed the check towards him. "Just take it."

He sighed loudly and picked up the check. For a long moment, he just looked at it, his face unreadable. Shaw knew it wasn't much. She only made $40 a week, probably as much as he made in an hour, but she was giving him half now and she'd give him more later.

Giving him the money made her feel a little more competent. She wasn't just wandering around, living off scraps and favors. Shaw was going to make something of herself, even if she was starting a little late. She would repay him for all his kindness.

Her eyes widened when Reese started ripping her check apart. He tossed the pieces onto the table and looked up at her, eyebrows drawn down. Shaw dropped into the booth across from him and gathered the pieces from where they'd scattered.

"Save your money," Reese said quietly, his voice like gravel in his throat. "I know it hurts your pride, but I don't care. Maybe when you have something saved, I'll ask for money. Until then...you can do repairs around the house or buy groceries for Root some time."

Shaw ran a hand through her messy hair. She needed a haircut. Looking at the ripped paper in her other hand, she rolled her eyes. Keeping the money meant that she could afford a haircut now. She clenched her fist and leaned back in her seat.

"Whatever," she mumbled, rolling her eyes. "I'll pay you back."

"Okay."

The sound of heels on tile made Shaw turn her head to catch Root walking into the kitchen. Root looked nicer than Shaw had ever seen her. She'd done something to her hair to make it into loose curls. They framed her face and accentuated her delicate features.

Root's normally pink lips were a soft red and Shaw wondered if they looked fuller than normal, or if she just hadn't noticed before. Her dress looked new, too. The black dress hugged Root's waist and hips, falling straight down to her knees. Shaw's fingers itched to undo the belt around Root's waist and pull the dress open.

What did Root wear under her dresses? Shaw knew she wasn't as innocent as she seemed, but was she adventurous? The image of black lace clinging to Root's lithe body made Shaw lick her lips. Root was wearing silk stockings and Shaw wondered if she wore garters. Could Shaw slide her hands under Root's skirt and unclip them?

She was sure that Root's skin was perfect, soft and smooth. Her high heels made her legs look like they went on for miles, lean muscle disappearing under her dress. For the first time all week, Shaw found herself thinking about Root as someone other than 'Reese's Girlfriend.'

The temptation of converting a straight woman, making her writhe under Shaw's hands, almost outweighed the guilt she would feel for taking Reese's girl away from him. Root was a real woman, smart and capable; she wouldn't cheat on Reese unless the relationship was bad and wouldn't Shaw be saving Reese from a bad relationship if she stole Root away?

"Sameen," Root said, pulling Shaw's attention back to the present, "I didn't know you were home."

Shaw gave her a tight smile and slid out of the booth. "I'm sneaky."

She walked to the small trash can in the far corner, brushing past Root. Her arm bumped against Root's and she frowned to herself. She'd been right; Root's skin was incredibly soft. Once she'd thrown the scraps of her check away, she turned back to face the two of them.

"Going out?"

"We're going to the movies," Root answered, clasping her gloved hands in front of her. "The Palace is showing Singing in the Rain."

Shaw shrugged. "Never heard of it."

Root's jaw dropped open. "Really? It came out a few years ago. It's Gene Kelly!"

"I don't know who that is either," Shaw answered. She smiled when Root looked even more shocked. "Hard to see movies without any money."

"Come with us," Reese said from across the kitchen. "You can buy tickets. That can be your rent."

Shaw didn't really want to see a movie. She wasn't really interested in seeing the romantic musicals they always showed. Glancing at Root, she wanted to go even less.

Root looked upset as she glanced at Reese, shoulders dropping. Even someone as romance-blind as Shaw was could see that they had a date planned. Women didn't dress up for a casual outing. Root turned back to look at Shaw.

Shaw held her hands up. "I couldn't impose."

"I insist." Reese climbed to his feet. "Change quickly and we'll go."

Shaw kept her eyes on Root and waited for Root to say something. She didn't, though. Instead, she just nodded at Shaw, her face still disappointed. Unsure if she should resist again, Shaw just sighed and headed out of the kitchen.

It didn't take her long to change into nicer clothing, and they were walking out the front door less than ten minutes later. Shaw followed Root and Reese to the car, hands tucked into her pockets. She'd worn her best black slacks and button down, trying to blend in a little bit with the better dressed couple. Although, she felt a little bit naked without her jacket.

They got to the driveway and Reese started walking around the car. Shaw frowned and jumped forward to open the passenger door for Root. Surprised, Root smiled at her and carefully lowered herself into the car. Making sure all of Root was inside, Shaw shut the door.

She got into the backseat and slid to the middle, not bothering to buckle herself in. They weren't too far from the shops outside the neighborhood and she knew that Reese drove like an old man. He backed out of the driveway and started out of the neighborhood.

After a minute of driving quietly, Root turned in her seat to face Shaw. She rested her arm on the back of the seat, stretching it across the back to rest her fingertips on Reese's shoulder. Shaw just looked at her, waiting for her to speak.

"So," Root said, smiling, "how was your first week of work?"

"Fine." Shaw crossed her arms. "It's a job."

"Are your coworkers nice?"

"They're ok. Not a lot of time to talk in the warehouse."

Root's smile flagged and her eyebrows drew down. "Warehouse? I thought you were building radios."

Root's tone grated Shaw's nerves and she slid forward in her seat, teeth clenched. At the edge of her seat, she was in Root's face, her own face still and dangerous. She watched Root's pupils widen and her lips part. Shaw narrowed her eyes.

"Someone has to do labor," she said, dangerously quiet. "We can't all go to college."

Root swallowed. "I'm not judging you, Sameen. I admire laborers."

Snorting with disdain, Shaw pushed herself back in her seat again. She didn't believe Root for a second. College girls like her didn't care about poor people. Looking out the window, Shaw watched the first shops appear around them. The Texaco station that had become her landmark breezed past them.

Shaw really wished she hadn't come along now. From the corner of her eye, she saw Root turned back around to face the front. Shaw had barely spent any time at the house. She'd been busy with work and her new friends, and Reese and Root weren't her usual company. Now, she had to go see a musical with them.

Reese turned into a parking lot and Shaw slid to one side of her seat, ready to get out. The parking lot was crowded and Shaw's displeasure grew. Was this really the best thing to do on a Saturday night? Go to the movies on a date, or with your family?

"I'm going to drop you off in front," Reese told them, pulling up the curb slowly, avoiding the people who were milling around. "You can get tickets and I'll meet you inside."

"Whatever," Shaw muttered. She slid to the other side of the seat and opened her door.

She heard Root thank Reese inside the car and slammed her door shut. Taking a step forward, Shaw pulled Root's door open, moving back to make room. Root's gloved hand took hold of the top of the door and she pulled herself up and out of the car.

Avoiding Root's eyes, she stared up at the bright marquee displaying movie titles. Beneath 'Singing in the Rain,' there was a movie called 'Invasion of the Body-Snatchers.' She didn't even know what it was about, but it seemed far more interesting than a Hollywood musical.

When Root was clear of the door, Shaw let it shut. Reese drove away and Shaw followed Root to the ticket line. She realized she didn't know how much movie tickets cost and reached for her wallet. At the bank, she'd taken out ten dollars, sure it would last her for the whole next week, but now she wasn't thought it might not.

Tickets couldn't be too much, she thought to herself, opening her wallet and pulling out her ten dollar bill. Not everyone in the crowd looked rich, like Root and Reese. She stuffed her wallet back into her pocket and kept the ten dollars in her hand.

They took a step forward in line and Shaw finally glanced at Root. She looked pensive, staring straight ahead towards the ticket booth. The yellow lightbulbs overhead gave her an odd glow. Shaw took another step forward in line and Root followed.

"I was just curious," Root said quietly, drawing Shaw's attention back. "I didn't mean to be rude."

Shaw snorted. "Well, you were."

Frowning, Root tugged at her gloves. "We haven't talked about your job all week. I thought you'd get a job on the line. You seem pretty smart."

"I am. That doesn't mean I'm qualified." She turned away, moving forward again. "We haven't talked because I don't really want to talk to you."

"What is your problem?" Root snapped, glaring down at her. "I asked a question; you're the one being rude. I haven't done anything to make you dislike me."

Shaw glared backed at her, scowling. "I don't like rich girls who spend men's money like water and look down on honest people who have to earn a living."

"I have a job," Root countered. "I'm earning, and spending, my own money."

"Did you buy yourself that dress?" Shaw rolled her eyes. "I can't expect you New York City girls to understand what it's like to be poor."

"I'm from Texas."

Shaw frowned, the legs of her argument swept out from under her. She'd thought Root was from New York. That's where Reese had met her. She waved a hand.

"They have rich girls in Texas, too."

Root turned to fully face her, face darker and angry. "I'm from Bishop, Texas. You haven't heard of it. It's a dirt road, no post office, no high school kind of town. I rode my bike to the next town and back just to go to school and I worked a full time job. I took care of my mother my whole life. I didn't have a rich dad. So, don't pretend to know me. And don't pretend that I'm the snobbish one."

Shaw stood silent, shocked at Root's outburst. The town Root described sounded like so many small towns that Shaw had driven through, glad not to actually live there. To learn that Root was from a town like that and had actually made it out, made something of herself, turned Shaw's righteous anger into guilt.

Root was right. Shaw had judged before she knew what she was talking about. She had no reason to be angry with Root just because she wasn't as successful. Root wasn't a golddigger. Shaw sighed and opened her mouth to apologize, but was interrupted.

"Sir?" The teenage boy in the ticket booth called to them. "Are you in line?"

Shaw frowned at him, but didn't bother correcting him. The problem with wearing men's clothing was getting mistaken for a man. She just moved forward to the booth and slid her ten dollar bill through the glass.

"Three tickets to Singing in the Rain."

"That'll be $1.50," the boy replied.

That wasn't too bad, Shaw thought to herself. It was more than she made in an hour, but it could be worse. She watched the boy make change and took it as he slipped it back to her. Shoving it into her pocket without looking, Shaw took the tickets and looked at Root.

"I don't know what to do now."

The tips of Root's lips quirked up, hinting at a smile beneath her anger. She pointed to the doors to the theatre. "Inside. We'll get popcorn and then go in."

Nodding, Shaw gestured for Root to lead the way. They walked together to the doors and Shaw jumped forward to pull one open for Root. Again, Root flashed her a small smile and went inside.

It was a little loud inside the lobby, with people hurrying around them and talking as they waited in line for food and drinks. It had been years since Shaw had been to the movies, she couldn't remember what she'd seen, it'd been so long, but she was sure it hadn't been this busy. Hollywood must be doing really well.

A hand clasped her elbow and she let Root pull her towards the concession stand. They stood in line and Shaw crossed her arms. Beside her, Root stood still, arms hanging at her side, looking around.

Clenching her jaw, Shaw shuffled her feet, annoyed. "I'm sorry," she said gruffly. When Root looked at her, clicked her tongue. "About being rude. You're right."

Root's face softened. "Thank you. I'm sorry for being rude, too."

"You weren't," she muttered, annoyed that she had to apologize and reassure. "You were being polite. I was the asshole."

Grinning, Root crossed her arms. "That's strong language for a family establishment like this."

"Oh, haven't you heard?" Shaw asked, jokingly. "I'm rude like that."

Root laughed and Shaw couldn't help but smile. It felt good to make Root laugh, like she'd accomplished something, especially after having just upset her. She should be nicer to Root, or at least not as mean. Even if they were never going to be friends, Shaw should at least try for Reese's sake.

Remembering him, she looked over her shoulder at the doors. Reese was just walking into the lobby, fitting in with the crowd. Shaw wondered if he'd looked so neat when he met Root or if she'd turned him into a gentleman. Maybe the war had done it.

He spotted them and headed over, making his way through the crowd. When he got to them, he put an arm around Root's shoulder.

"So many people," he said. "I'm glad you could get tickets."

Shaw looked down at the three small tickets in her hands. "What's this movie about anyway?

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"But were they really dancing? Or was it a dream? Because I don't think two people just dance in front of a wind machine or on a ladder for fun."

Root laughed across the booth from her, lips around her milkshake's straw. "I think it's supposed to be a bit of both, Sameen. It's romantic!"

Shaw huffed, but she smiled. The movie hadn't been as bad as she'd expected. She would still have preferred to see that bodysnatchers movie, but overall the night hadn't been a waste.

After the movie, they'd gone to the diner nearby for dinner. She'd sat across from John and Root, ordered herself a cheeseburger, and settled in. As good as Root's cooking was, there was nothing like a burger from a diner and a thick milkshake. Shaw stuffed the last of her fries into her mouth.

"I'm not really romantic," she said, her mouth full. Root smiled at her. "I wish we'd seen that other movie."

Root sat up straight. "Invasion of the Body-Snatchers?"

"Yeah."

"You should have said something! I want to see that, too."

Shaw rolled her eyes. "Then why did I waste my money on the singing movie."

Reese chuckled. "You could use a touch of class. That's why."

"Oh, shut up," Shaw scoffed. She gave him her middle finger. "That's what I think of class."

Blushing, Root reached out and pushed Shaw's finger down. "I'm getting used to you, but we're still in public."

"Sorry," she mumbled, dropping her hand to the table. "So, you like science fiction?"

"I love it!" Root grinned at her. "I really love science fiction that's also horror. I love scary movies."

Shaw was impressed. She would never have guessed that Root liked that sort of thing. Honestly, Root seemed a bit delicate, but clearly she wasn't. She kept surprising Shaw and it made Shaw feel off-balance.

The mystery of Root grew. Who was this girl from Texas who'd made it in the big city? She liked musicals and horror. She was a classy lady, but had premarital sex. Shaw wondered if Root drank ever, or if she stuck to milkshakes and soda pop.

Root blushed. "What? Is there something on my face?"

Shaw realized she was staring and coughed into her fist. "No. You look fine. I was just...distracted."

"Maybe next weekend we can see another movie," Reese suggested. "Make it a routine?"

"Sure," Shaw said, shrugging. "As long as we mix it up."

A shadow passed over Root's face and she leaned into Reese. "Can you make plans like that? You might have to work."

"Oh." Reese frowned. He lifted his arm over Root's head into his lap. "I might. We can still plan to see a movie. I'll just stay behind if something comes up."

Root's shoulders slumped. "I just don't want to make plans that are just going to fall apart. I know your case is important, but I don't want to be disappointed."

"You can just go with Shaw."

Shaw raised her eyebrows and quickly lifted her milkshake up, taking a long sip. This seemed like an ongoing argument and Shaw did not want to be a part of it. Root glanced at her angrily and turned back to Reese.

"You can't just dump me on your friend, John." She slid back in her seat. "Did you let her move here just so I could give you more time alone?"

Reese frowned. "No. The decision had nothing to do with you."

Shaw sucked in a deep breath through her nose. Even she knew that was the wrong thing to say to a woman. Root's eyes widened and she slid out of the booth, glaring down at Reese.

"After four years, I had hoped to be a part of big decisions," Root said, her voice flat and cold, "but obviously I am still an afterthought to you."

She turned on her heel and left the diner, the door slamming shut with a crash behind her. Reese winced, sitting back in his seat. He turned to look at Shaw. She waited for him to say something or leave, but he just sat there helplessly.

"Go after her," Shaw said, pointing over her shoulder to the door. "Idiot."

He smiled tightly and lifted his butt to pull his wallet out of his back pocket. He threw some money down on the table and slid out of the booth. Shaw turned in her seat to see him leaving the diner.

So, Reese was still as hopeless with women as she remembered. It was almost funny, how little he understood them. Women were easy to understand, Shaw thought. You respect them, ask for their opinions, buy them nice things, and tell them they're pretty. That always worked for her.

Root was a little more complicated than most women, though. Shaw had also never been in a relationship for four years. Short term at least, her strategy worked. Maybe Root needed something else.

Shaw sighed and put her milkshake down. Now that she saw a crack in Root and Reese's relationship, she felt like she should feel guiltier about their own argument earlier. Root hadn't chosen to have Shaw in her life and then Shaw had shown up to and started being rude.

Leaving the booth, Shaw started for the door. She hoped that in their arguing and apologizing, they hadn't driven home and forgotten about her. The walk wasn't too long, but Shaw still wasn't interested in walking home in the dark.

The warm early-April air hit her as she walked outside and she pushed her sleeves up higher on her elbows. Looking around, she saw Root standing on the curb, arms crossed. Shaw ran a hand through her hair and headed over to her.

"Hey," Shaw said quietly, stopping beside her. "Are...you ok?"

Root looked down at her with tired eyes. "I'm fine. I'm sorry that I got upset inside."

Shaw shrugged. "I get it. Reese is an idiot."

"He is," Root laughed, dropping her arms. "He can be pretty thick."

They smiled at each other for a moment and then Shaw cleared her throat and looked away. She reminded herself that she should be nice to Root. Trying to think of something to say, Shaw was glad when Root talked first.

"We should see Invasion of the Bodysnatchers next weekend," she said softly, looking over the parking lot. "With or without him. I didn't mean to sound like I wasn't willing to spend time with you. I just…" Root turned to her fully. "I'm very smart and I'm understanding, but I just want some order. Some system that's easy to follow."

Shaw raised her eyebrows. "Reese is hard to follow?"

"He is now," she answered. "He used to be stable and easy, but now he's running off to work all the time and we barely talk. I don't think he's cheating, but it's still not pleasant."

"How about this," Shaw started. "Let's make plans, just the two of us, to see movies on Sunday. Just leave him out of it. Girl time."

Root smirked at her, putting her hands on her hips. "You don't strike me as the 'girl time' type."

"I'm not," Shaw confirmed, "but I think we'll both be sick of him by the end of the week. I could use a break and we don't have to talk in a movie theater."

"That's true." Root chuckled and pushed her hair from her face. "Ok. Let's do it. Then we can come here and I can eat a cheeseburger without feeling judged."

"Baby, with me, you can eat as many cheeseburgers as you want." Shaw winked at her, feeling satisfied when a soft blush spread across Root's cheeks. "For now, though, where's Reese?"

As soon as she asked the question, Reese's car pulled up to the curb in front of them. Like she had before, Shaw stepped forward and opened the passenger door. Root smiled at her, thanked her softly, and lowered herself into the car. When she was clear, Shaw shut the door and got in the back.

The drive home was quiet and Shaw was grateful. The night had been stressful. She'd spent all week socializing at the Black Cherry after work with Carter, Fusco, and Harper, but this one outing had her more exhausted than all the others. She couldn't tell if it was the argument or the company.

Shaw stared at the Root, taking in the curve of her jaw and the way her hair curled around her ear. It helped that Root was so nice to look at. Shaw was sure she could put up with a lot of annoyance if the annoyance was coming from a face like Root's.

They got home quickly and Shaw got out of the car, taking a deep breath of the night air. As she let Root out, she thought about the smell of the city. It was different than her hometown. No ocean smells, more gasoline. It was growing on her.

As soon as they were inside the house, Shaw hurried up the stairs. She wasn't interested in sticking around for part two of the argument from dinner and she wanted to sit in a hot bath to clean away the evening. She was suddenly immensely grateful to have a bathroom, and floor, to herself.

Even though Root used the guest room as an office, Shaw usually had the whole level to herself. She walked down the hallway to her bedroom, already unbuttoning her shirt. Opening the door to her room, Shaw looked around.

It felt a little more like her own space after a week. Her clothing was strewn around and she told herself that she would clean up in the morning. She didn't have enough clothing to fill the dresser that Reese had given her, but she might as well start putting things in the drawers.

She took her shirt off, tossing it onto the desk and moving on to her pants. It only took her a minute to strip completely. Her favorite part of having her own room, something she hadn't had in a long time, was being able to be naked. She ran her hands over her stomach and up her chest.

She let herself think about Root for a moment, and wonder if Root's stomach was soft. Was she sensitive? If Shaw ran her hands over her breasts, would Root gasp? Push against her? Did Root like her stomach kissed? Her thighs?

Shaw dropped her hands and pulled her mind away from Root's body. If she was going to fantasize about someone she knew, she should fantasize about someone accessible. As she stepped out into the hallway, Shaw wondered if Carter was single. She was probably a good time in bed.

Pushing her way into the bathroom, Shaw looked in the mirror. She was thinner than she liked, because she hadn't been eating as well as she had at home. A few weeks of Root's home cooking and Shaw would fill out again.

Shrugging, she turned to the shower. The curtain was a dark blue and made the whole room glow like it was underwater. She moved the curtain aside, bending down to plug the drain and turned the water on. Making it as hot as possible, she straightened up.

Movement in the mirror above the sink made Shaw turn around. Root was standing in the hallway, still as a statue. Her face and neck were a deep red and her eyes were shockingly wide. She was staring at Shaw, eyes slowly dragging over her whole body.

"Can I help you?" Shaw asked her, not bothering to hide her body.

Root gasped, jumping, and her eyes jumped up to Shaw's face. "I was- my desk- It's- Sorry!"

She turned and hurried down the hall, disappearing into the guest room and slamming the door shut. Shaw rolled her eyes. Maybe Root wasn't that progressive after all if she was that upset about seeing another woman naked.

Taking pity on her, Shaw shut the bathroom door. She wondered if Root would be able to meet her eyes for a while and chuckled to herself. It was only fair. Root and Reese's argument had made Shaw uncomfortable and now her body had made Root uncomfortable. She smiled to herself and stepped into the bath.


	5. The Seven Year Itch

Root tapped her stack of punchcards on her desk, making them fall in line. She turned in her desk chair to face the small cabinet behind her. Opening a drawer, she dropped the stack onto another one, adding to the collection. One day, Root was going to invent a way to store this information directly onto the computer. All of this paper was terrible.

It was the end of another work week and, as grateful as she was for the weekend, she wasn't looking forward to the evening. More than a week ago, she'd agreed to go to Mr. Finch's house with John and have dinner with him and Grace. A boring night at the best of times, Root was too distracted now to muster any energy.

She hadn't been able to get the image of Sameen out of her mind all week. Root had only seen her naked for a moment, but the image of tanned muscles and smooth skin stayed with her. Root turned back around and rested her arms on her desk.

Seeing Sameen so naked affected her more than she could reason. Like all girls, Root had thought about her friends that way before. It was only natural for a woman to compare herself to other women and girls were just safer than boys. She'd practiced kissing with her best friend, Hanna, in high school and that hadn't been odd.

This time was different, though. Every time Root closed her eyes, she conjured up Sameen's dark eyes, half-lidded with amusement, and her hard stomach, so different from John's. Maybe Root was affected by Sameen so strongly because it had been a while since she'd had a close female friend.

Having a best friend always made her relationships with boys easier. Whenever she felt unsure about her relationship or like she wasn't doing it right, her friend would comfort her, hug her, and make her feel better. Since college, Root had only been around men, other than Grace or the secretaries.

Sameen was the opposite of Grace and the others. She was strong and masculine in a way Root hadn't known women could be. She was more like John than she was like Zoe. Maybe it was similarity that was making Root feel unsteady and unsure.

John's body was nice to look at, but it had never truly made Root's heart race or her palms sweat. His muscular arms held her tight, but they weren't exciting. His blue eyes could pierce her, read her, but they didn't pull her in.

Sameen, though. Root groaned and dropped her forehead onto her desk, ignoring the way her dress pulled at her shoulders and the thin belt dug into her stomach. Every part of Sameen was perfect.

Her hair was thick and luscious, just long enough to make Root want to brush stray curls from her face. Her eyes sucked Root in and her smile, what little Root had seen of it, made her stomach do flips. Sameen's arms were firm and defined, carved from real labor and Root was sure she would feel safe with them holding her close.

Now Root had seen her in full, had seen the soft curve of her breasts, the way her defined hip bones drew attention down between her legs, her thick, powerful legs. Why couldn't she escape it? Root sucked in a breath, trying to pull herself together. Her body had been hot and her heart racing all week.

If Root didn't know better, she would think she was attracted to Sameen. She would think that she had a crush on her, on the way she said something rude and then frowned, catching herself, or the way she always pushed her hands into her pockets, like she had to hold herself back from hitting the person in front of her. Root felt the way she thought she would feel about a man and it scared her.

When she was younger, Root would listen to the girls in school talk about their beaus. They talked about being nervous to hold hands or blush. They described stubbled jaws with awe and detailed the ways in which their boyfriends would stare at them with smirks and slow smiles.

She'd never been interested in that. Stubbled jaws and smirks never did anything for her. Well, now Sameen's smirks did, she thought to herself frustrated. When Sameen's lips twitched, Root could feel her stomach twitch.

She sat up again, looking around her office. Usually, she felt isolated in her office. Everyone else was on the floor most of the day, tending to computers and sorting cards. Root liked to be out there, too, working on the machines. She'd had a lot of paperwork to do recently and she'd been stuck in her office, alone. However, that isolation was fantastic now. Root could panic quietly in privacy.

The logical part of Root was telling her to think about her feelings more. Whatever they were, she didn't want to be rash. She should figure out what was happening to her and then make a calm decision. Logically, she knew that.

However, a much larger part of Root wanted to throw caution to the wind and just… She didn't know what. That was bothering her more than her racing heart and sweating palms - She didn't know what to do with her feelings.

Kissing Sameen was out of the question - women didn't do that sort of thing. They could practice kissing, but only if it was practice. That's what Hanna had said. She'd told Root that girls could have small crushes on other girls, but boys always came first.

Root had thought that was just talk, but maybe she'd gotten confused. She'd always preferred to have her small crushes on friends instead of a real crush on a boy. Once she'd met John, though, Root was sure that her feelings for him were a real crush. Real love, but now she was thinking about kissing Sameen for real, not just for practice.

Did that mean she had to break up with John? She slumped in her seat. She liked John. He was nice and he was fun to spend time with. Wasn't that the point of a relationship? Was there something more to her boredom than being tired of being comfortable?

Root shook her head and stood up. She wasn't going to do anything stupid. Just because her small crush on Sameen had turned into a medium crush didn't mean anything. Root loved John, even if he wasn't exciting or dangerous and the sex wasn't always that good.

She stopped herself from going down that train of thought. Her relationship with John was fine. It would be nice if he worked less, but that would happen soon when his case was over. Their relationship was fine and Root's crush wasn't anything to worry over.

Opening her drawer, she pulled her purse out. It was a little later than she normally left work, but that was fine. She wouldn't run into Martine and her friends and she'd probably get away without having to talk to any of the men out on the floor.

She had just put her purse on her shoulder when there was a knock at the door. Root sighed.

"Come in," she called.

The door opened to reveal Jason, a programmer she'd been working with for years. He gave her a tight smile and hurried into the room, shutting the door behind him. Raising an eyebrow, Root sat down again.

"Very secretive," she commented. She watched him cross the room and sit in the chair on the other side of her desk. "Something wrong?"

"I don't want to worry you," he said calmly, "but I think we might have a mole."

"A mole?"

He nodded. "I've noticed that some punchcards have been going missing recently. I think someone might be taking them."

"Oh?" Root leaned forward, leaning on her elbows. "Are they important cards? Part of our regular processes? Or random data?"

"Part of our new project," he answered. "Daniel and I have been working on the math for that display screen you wanted, but we keep finding punchcards missing when we start the next day."

Frowning, she tried to think of who could be taking the cards. It was always possible that another programmer was interested in the project who would want to take them and get credit for it himself. She pushed a loose strand of hair from her face.

"Bring them to me. I'll lock them away at night with the others. Then, when I take them out to send to clients in the morning, I'll give them back to you."

He looked relieved. "That's a great idea."

"Keep an eye out," she told him. "See if you can figure out who it is. I'll talk to Harold."

"Alright," he said, standing. "I'll bring them in now." He left, closing the door behind him again.

Root was starting to regret asking the boys to help her with a project. She just didn't have as much time now that she had taken on a more managerial position. There had to be a better way to process information than paper, a way to store the information on the computer, and Root wanted to find it. She just didn't have the time.

If someone was trying to steal her ideas, though, she might have to reconsider. Maybe she could do the math at home and stay late to use the computers. Harold would probably notice that, though. She'd let them continue working for now and just keep the work safe.

"Here you go," Jason said, sticking his head back into the room. He crossed to her and handed her a box full of punchcards. "These are the incriminating ones. It's pretty heavy."

She held her hands out to take the box. "This is why we're doing this," she grumbled, arms straining as she took it. "I'm so tired of these."

He smiled at her as he backed out of the room. "Spite is a great motivator. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Have a good weekend."

He left and she dropped the box of punchcards onto her desk. She didn't want to store it now that she saw how many there were. Her office locked, so she'd just leave them here and lock her door. Satisfied with her plan, Root hiked her purse back onto her shoulder and left the office.

As she turned around to lock her door, she stilled. Two men's voices were coming around the corner, hushed and mean. She listened as she slowly pulled her keys from her purse.

"I'm just saying," a british accent said, "she's not better than us. I mean, I think she might even be worse than us."

Root rolled her eyes. Of course, Lambert was talking badly about her. He was still upset that she had gotten the promotion two years ago instead of him. Nevermind that she'd already been working for Harold for years before he was even hired.

"I bet she just sits in her office and does her make-up."

That was Leon, Root thought to herself, recognizing his voice. He was the laziest person on their team. Harold had only hired him because he'd had fantastic references. Root wouldn't be surprised to learn that he had hired people to take Harold's calls.

Locking her door, Root started for the exit. She dropped her keys into her purse as she passed the men. They stared at her with wide eyes, well aware that she could ask Harold to fire them, but she just gave them a friendly wave.

They didn't wave back. She didn't care. The job was about computers, inventing and filling orders for clients. Root wasn't always sure who their clients were, but it didn't really matter to her. She just liked sticking her hands into wires and figuring out puzzles.

As she stopped in front of the elevator, her mind drifted away from work, back to Sameen. From the little she knew about John's friend, Root could tell she was intelligent. Sameen had sharp eyes and a sharper tongue, always taking in her environment and processing.

Sameen was like a computer. She took in data, made calculations, and then output what she thought was best. Of course, what she thought was best was usually crass, aggressive, and inappropriate, but that was growing on Root. She was getting used to the abrasive comments and starting to see that they weren't always meant to be mean.

Root realized she hadn't pressed the button to call the elevator and reached out to hit it. She still had to go home and put something together to take to Harold's for dinner. There was a cake in the fridge. She'd bought it to serve over the weekend, maybe as a post-movie treat with Sameen, but now it looked like her best option for the night.

She wished Sameen was coming to dinner, but that wasn't possible. Harold and Grace hadn't invited her and she would probably be going out with her friends in the city. Root was amazed at how quickly Sameen had found a place. Root had lived in the city for seventeen years and it still didn't really feel like a home.

She wished she had Sameen's natural ease. Root blushed as the elevator opened in front of her and she stepped in. Sameen had been so comfortable in her nudity. That was part of her appeal, Root thought, pressing the button for the lobby. Sameen wasn't stressed or worried about herself.

Root wondered if that ease extended to every part of her life. Was Shaw confident in other ways? Leaning back against the wall, Root closed her eyes. Her now familiar daydream of riding on the back of Shaw's motorcycle appeared instantly.

It seemed almost cheesy to want to wrap herself in Shaw's leather jacket, smell her all around, and cloak herself in that confidence. Root could imagine Shaw tilting her head up with a confident finger and forcing Root to look her in the eyes. Shaw would dip her head down, brush their lips together, and then embrace Root passionately.

A bell chimed, signaling her arrival on the first floor and Root opened her eyes again. This dinner would do her good. It would help reset Root's mind, restore some sense of normalcy to her life. Root could talk with her old friends and remember what she was supposed to be emulating.

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Root covered the cake, snapping the tall lid into its base. This Tupperware had been a gift from John's mom, but they'd never had a chance to use it before. Root made a note to write her a letter soon. She hadn't had a chance to respond to her last one.

Picking up the container, she headed out of the kitchen into the living room. She'd changed clothing for dinner. It felt silly to change into nicer clothing once she left work, but this was dinner with her boss and she should try to impress him. She'd exchanged her cotton dress for a satin one, dark blue and knee length.

John smiled at her from the entranceway. "Ready?" he asked, reaching for the door. "You look very nice."

She stepped carefully down the two steps to the lower level and grinned back at him. "You don't look too bad yourself, Mr. Reese."

They kissed quickly as she passed and she stepped out onto the front porch, surprised at how bright it was outside. It was just past seven and the sun was still hovering above the houses across the street. It would only stay brighter longer until the Solstice. Maybe Root would lay out at the pool after work a few days a week. Try to tan while she could.

The door closed behind her and she walked down the porch steps onto the walkway. She hurried down to the sidewalk, heels clacking against cement. As she walked, she watched a group of kids play street hockey a few houses down. They were usually out here after school and Root was a little jealous of how happy they looked.

The sound of a motorcycle caught her attention and she looked past the kids to see Sameen come driving down the street. As she got closer to the children, she slowed down, eventually coming to a stop. Root stopped when she reached the sidewalk and kept her eyes on Sameen as she lifted a leg over the old bike and started walking it.

"Shaw!" one of the boys on the street said. "You playing today?"

"Hell yeah," Sameen responded, taking her helmet off. Her hair was shorter than it had been, only curling once.

Root frowned. Sameen still looked good, she'd probably look good bald, but Root was a little bit sad that she couldn't run her fingers through as much hair. Realizing what she'd just thought, she blushed, her face and neck growing hot. Root had never run her fingers through Shaw's hair and she never would.

"You alright?" John asked from behind her.

She jerked around to look at him. "Yeah, sorry. I'm just...surprised to see Shaw playing street hockey with children."

He chuckled, lighting nudging her to keep walking. "She plays a tough game, but she's good with kids and she loves sports."

Root walked down the sidewalk to Harold's house, glancing over her shoulder at the game. Sameen had parked her bike against the sidewalk and tossed aside her helmet, jacket, and sunglasses. She waded into the group of kids and glanced up.

Their eyes met and Sameen gave her a small wave. Root just lifted the cake box, showing that she couldn't wave back, and turned around again.

It only took them a minute to get to Mr. Finch's house, and John knocked on the door with three sharp raps. He seemed almost nervous, his body tense beside Root's, and she looked up at him.

"Still nervous to go to the boss' for dinner?" she asked jokingly. "You guys are basically joined at the hip."

He flashed a smile, but it didn't stick. Before he could answer, the door opened and Grace greeted them. She took the cake from Root, grinning, and stepped back to let them inside.

"Come in," Grace said, happily. "You aren't strangers! Head right to the table. You're just on time."

"Oh, good," Root replied.

She walked into the house, looking around. Grace didn't work, so the house was immaculate and well decorated. Mr. Finch was very rich, Root wasn't even sure just how rich, but he owned a law firm and a prominent engineering company, so he was definitely well off.

Root knew she shouldn't think about how much money other people were making, but she couldn't help it. Her upbringing made her very aware of her own poverty. Even now, when she was making almost as much as John was, she felt out of place in a home as nice as this. She made more in a year than her parents had ever made in their lives, but she still took in the art on Mr. Finch's wall and thought about her own almost empty apartment.

Grace disappeared into the kitchen and Root headed to the dining table. Their house had the same layout as John's and that always made Root feel a little bit better. Even if they'd managed to make it look nice, Mr. Finch's house wasn't any bigger than theirs.

Once Root had sat, it only took a few moments for dinner to start. Grace brought out plates and served them all from the food from the dishes she'd set at the table before they'd arrived. Root tried to learn from her, but Grace always seemed to be using magic.

"So," Mr. Finch said once they'd started eating, "Miss Groves. How's the office? I'm sorry I haven't been able to stop by as much recently. Our current case has been difficult."

Root nodded to hide her swallow. Licking her lips, she reached for her wine glass. "The office is good," she answered. "We haven't had too many issues lately and I've been able to make some modifications to our system that seem to help."

"That's great. I knew I was right to put my trust in you."

She smiled at him, pleased. Mr. Finch was a pioneer in his field and she was always happy when he acknowledged her successes. "Thank you."

"There's a conference in Chicago over the summer," he told her. "I've been thinking about sending you. We need to keep abreast of the latest news and I know you'd be able to handle yourself."

Root grinned, thrilled. "I would be more than happy to go and represent Thornhill."

"Then it's settled." The conversation over, he turned his attention to John. "Tell me about your new boarder. She seems...interesting."

John answered, but Root didn't hear him. She sipped her wine instead, thinking about the trip to Chicago. She wondered if Mr. Finch would send John with her or if she'd be on her own in a strange city. The thought made her nervous, but it was also exciting.

Root could have some fun in a new city. She could go to new museums, meet new people. Chicago was a dangerous place, but Root wasn't too worried. If she could handle herself in New York City as a teenager, she could handle herself anywhere.

She thought about inviting Sameen to come with her. It would mean taking time off work, but it would only be a couple of days. Root could even use her savings to pay for Sameen's flight. She would just have to convince Sameen to accept the gift.

Root glanced at John and Mr. Finch. They'd moved on from Sameen, talking about someone at work. Root hadn't liked the tone of Mr. Finch's voice when he called Sameen "interesting." She was interesting, but Root thought he might mean something different by the word than she did.

Mr. Finch had recruited Root straight out of college and hired her as an assistant to Mr. Weeks, the office manager at the time. When Mr. Weeks had retired, Mr. Finch had promoted Root. By then, she was basically running the office anyway, talking to clients and directing projects. It had been a logical set up.

Other than the kindness Mr. Finch had shown Root then, he was distant. He obviously preferred to talk to John, and Root's being around was just a secondary concern of his. He wasn't nearly as interesting as Sameen was.

Root was beginning to believe that no one was as interesting as Sameen. She was a mystery, a puzzle that Root wanted to solve, but even unknown, Sameen caught and kept Root's attention. Physical attractiveness aside, Sameen was captivating.

"Root?" Grace's voice asked, reminding her that she was at a dinner party. "How are you getting on with Shaw?"

Root smiled at Grace, glancing over to see Mr. Finch and John engaged in conversation and paying the two of them no mind. "I'm getting on with her just fine. Thank you. We're different types of people, but I think we're becoming friends."

"I've noticed that she's...different," Grace said, looking a little concerned. "She seems rather masculine, don't you think?"

"I think it's admirable," Root answered. She took a quick sip of her wine and put it down. "More women should be so bold."

Grace's cheeks turned pink. "Of course," she agreed. "I would never have the courage, but I'm glad she's found hers. Does she work?"

Root nodded, thinking about Sameen and her overalls and muscular, bare arms. "She works for Hammarlund, in...their factory."

"That's so interesting!" Grace pushed her plate forward to rest her wrists delicately on the table. "Tell me more about her. I want to know everything. Does she smoke? Is that really her motorcycle? Who does she spend time with?"

Holding her hands up, Root laughed. "I can only answer one question at a time."

"Sorry. Go ahead."

"Alright," Root said, smiling. She picked up her wine glass again. "She does smoke. Camels. Not regularly. At least, not when she's home. That is her motorcycle. You know, she built it herself."

Grace's eyes widened with surprise and glee. "She built it? That's amazing! A true renaissance woman, then. Tell me more! I'm so interested."

Root smiled softly, taking a drink. She didn't want to gush about Sameen, but it would be so easy to do. She wasn't anything like anyone Root had ever known. Maybe it was just the novelty that was making her so focused on Sameen. Root could understand that.

"Well," Root said, putting her glass down again, "she's a little gruff- abrasive, I'd say, but I think she's secretly a sweetheart. She likes to play the male role, opening doors, paying for dinner. I bet if I asked her to repair the sink, she'd be more than glad to."

"That's lucky for the two of you," Grace joked. "John is a terrible handyman."

Root laughed. "He is! And I'll fix a lot of things, but I have no interest in climbing under the sink or into the oven. Sameen can gladly take that off our hands."

Grace sighed, sitting back in her chair. "Do you know where she's from?"

"California," Root answered. "She and John grew up together."

"Oh," Grace smiled knowingly, "I meant originally."

Root wasn't sure how to answer the question. She was fairly certain that Sameen was born in the same town as John, in California. Maybe John had mentioned otherwise, but Root didn't know. She shrugged.

"I'm not sure. I thought she was born in California."

"But she's darker than we are," Grace said. "Maybe they're different on the other coast."

Suddenly, Root understood what Grace was asking. She hadn't thought about it. Sameen was obviously not white like they were, but that didn't mean she wasn't American. Did it? Root had grown up with all kinds of people, coming off the railroad or traveling to Bishop to get on. She usually figured they were just from...somewhere.

"I see," Root finally said. "I'm not sure. John might know."

Grace waved her hand. "It's not important. I was mostly just curious. To be so exotic and masculine!"

"Yeah," Root muttered.

"You should bring her over for dinner sometime," Grace suggested. "I'd love to meet her."

Root pictured Sameen in a dress, sipping wine and making small talk. Holding back a laugh, Root pushed her hair behind her ears.

"I don't think she's really the dinner party type," Root replied. She drank her wine again.

"Oh." Grace pouted. After a moment, she perked up. "Then bring her bowling! We could invite Matthew and make it triples instead of our usual doubles."

Root swallowed hard, trying to think of a way out of the invitation. They hadn't bowled together in so long. Mr. Finch and John were always so busy and she wasn't going to spend time with Grace alone. Besides, Sameen wouldn't want to go bowling with them.

"I'm not sure…"

"Nonsense!" Grace said cheerfully. "I insist. Let's go this Sunday."

Root perked up. "I actually already have plans with Sameen."

"Perfect," Mr. Finch said, cutting into their conversation. "Then you're both free. We'll see you there. We can drive together if you girls don't mind squeezing together in the back."

Root smiled weakly. She wasn't excited about going bowling, but the idea of being pressed against Sameen for the car ride was enticing.

"Alright," she answered. "We'll bowl."

The rest of dinner passed quickly and Root was happy when the time came to leave. Grace was leading Root to the door, the leftover cake in its box in her hands, when John caught her by the arm.

"I'm going to stay here for a couple hours," he said quietly. "Is that alright?"

Root opened her mouth to ask if she was invited to stay, too, but decided against it. "Sure. I'll just go home."

"Thanks," he breathed, already turning away from her.

She watched him disappear into the kitchen with Mr. Finch and frowned. It was feeling more and more like John was distancing himself from her. But why? Was it just the case? Maybe he was cheating on her, but with who?

Sighing, she walked out of the house, thanking Grace for dinner, and stood on the porch as the door closed behind her. It was almost totally dark now, the only light coming from porches and streetlights. Root looked down the street to see Sameen still playing with the hockey kids.

Root smiled. She should definitely bring Sameen to Chicago. Sameen would be a great travel companion and Root was sure she could find fun in the rough city. Licking her lips, Root started down the steps, deciding not to ask Sameen about the trip until she knew whether or not John was coming. Root couldn't bring both.

She hurried down the walkway to the sidewalk, shifting her cakebox to one hand so she could push her hair from her face. Idly, she thought about cutting her hair off, too. Sameen never seemed to have to adjust her hair, only putting her hands through it to neaten it. Root laughed. She loved her long hair too much to cut it all off. She might experiment with updos, though.

Sameen saw her coming down the sidewalk and handed her stick to one of the boys. She jogged up the street, meeting Root in front of their house. She looked a little bit sweaty and the legs of her overalls were rolled up to her knees. Root wanted to run a finger down Sameen's arm, following the curve of her muscles, and gather sweat drops. She wondered what Sameen tasted like.

"Hey," Sameen greeted her, slightly out of breath. She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "Wanna play? These kids are terrible. I'm crushing them."

Root laughed and Sameen seemed to perk up. "Sameen," Root said, still giggling, "you should probably let the children win."

"What?" Sameen crossed her arms. "They'll learn better from failure. These suburban kids have such thin skin."

Raising a delicate eyebrow, Root smiled at Sameen. "I'm just saying, if you send any of them home with scrapes or bruises, the homeowner's association might call the police on you."

Shaw spread her arms for a wide shrug. "They're fine. Are you going to play or what?"

"I don't know…"

Root was wearing heels and she had the cake box with her. It wasn't the best outfit for playing outdoor sports. Besides, she hadn't played in years and she'd probably just embarrass herself. Root started to shake her head.

"Oh, come on," Sameen whined, putting her fists on her hips. "Take your shoes off, put the...plastic...box...thing down."

"It's a cake," Root told her.

Sameen's eyes lit up. "We'll eat it after! Play with us. Or are you scared?"

The boys playing hockey all made chicken noises and Root wondered if Sameen had taught them that or if it was something boys knew instinctively. She rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Alright," Root said, putting down her Tupperware. "I'll play."

Sameen pumped a fist in the air. "Attagirl!"

Stepping out of her shoes, Root hesitated. She really didn't want to play in her silk stockings, but the alternative was taking them off in public. Glancing to the side, she noticed Sameen's eyes trailing over her legs and smiled.

Root bent down, carefully setting her shoes together. Then, she trailed her hands up her legs, under her skirt, to unsnap her garters. Sameen's eyes were glued to her hands and the exposed tops of her stockings. Root let them fall to the ground and pool around her ankles.

"Would you mind?" she asked, lifting a foot. "Be careful."

Sameen swallowed hard and dropped to a knee. With nervous, but steady hands, she gently pulled the stockings off of Root's foot, folding it delicately as Root switched feet. Sameen set the stocking on top of Root's heels and then did the same with the other.

She looked up and Root's breath caught in her throat. Sameen's eyes were darker than usual, the orange glow from the street lamps casting strange shadows on her face. Root wondered if Sameen got crushes on women, too, or if she was just projecting. It would be impossible to ask without admitting that Sameen was the object of Root's fantasies.

"Are you guys coming or what?" one of the boys called.

Root jerked back, dropping her foot. Sameen climbed to her feet and smirked at her.

"Let's go beat these kids."

An hour later, after the boys had been called home and John had gone to bed, Root sat on the kitchen counter swinging her bare legs and eating cake straight off the Tupperware base. Leaning her hip against the counter beside her, Sameen pulled the fork from her mouth and smirked at Root.

"You bought this, right? From the A&P?"

Root glared at her, pretending to be insulted. "I am a wonderful baker," she defended. "I could bake this if I wanted to."

Snorting, Sameen dug her fork back into the cake. "But you didn't."

"But I didn't." Root laughed, putting her fork down. "I have some bad news."

Sameen looked at her, eyes questioning, as she opened her mouth impossibly wide to shove a large piece of cake in.

"I may have promised Grace that we'd go bowling with them on Sunday."

"Hmph," Sameen asked, cheeks bulging with cake. Her eyes narrowed. "Wmmy?"

Root reached a finger out to wipe a smudge of frosting from the corner of Sameen's mouth. She licked it clean before answering. "It was either that or a dinner date, so you're welcome."

Sameen chewed, still glaring at her.

"There's something else…" Root said slowly. When Sameen raised an eyebrow, she raised her hands defensively. "She's bringing Matthew Reed. He lives a few doors down. He's a nice guy, but not particularly interesting."

Swallowing hard, Shaw put her fork down. "So, you not only promised I'd go bowling, but you got me a blind date?"

Root winced. "Yes? Trust me, I would much rather see a movie with you, but Mr. Finch is my boss, and John's, and Grace is his wife, so we have to. Well, you don't have to, but we-"

"God, fine." Sameen rolled her eyes. "I'll go bowling." She lifted a stern finger. "You have to stay with me the whole time," she said menacingly. "If you're going to force me to spend time with boring strangers, you have to suffer with me."

Root smiled. "Gladly."


	6. Ambush

Shaw pushed the door to the ABC open, stepping aside to hold it for the others. Reese mumbled his thanks, already pulling out his wallet and heading for the rental counter. He was dressed nicer than she was and she wondered if bowling in the city was a bigger deal than out west.

Root smiled at Shaw as she passed and Shaw found herself smiling back. After their impromptu street hockey game a few days ago, Shaw was warming up to Root. She wasn't as uptight as Shaw had suspected and Shaw was learning that Root could be fun. She wasn't looking forward to this blind date, but at least she was getting to spend some time with Root. Reese, too.

Letting the door swing shut, she followed the two of them into the bowling alley. It was huge, much larger than the one she went to in California. As she and Root walked to the rental counter to join Reese, Shaw looked around, taking in the bright lights and families gathered around scoring desks. There were about 30 lanes in the huge building and almost all of them were full.

Root turned to her when they reached Reese. "Fancy, huh? It's new."

"I can tell," Shaw replied. She pushed her hands into her pockets. "I've never been in an alley this big."

"You get used to it." Root shrugged. "They don't have pinboys, which I think is a little sad. All those boys need to find new jobs."

Reese rented the lane for three hours and Shaw frowned, glancing at her watch. Three hours seemed like a long time to bowl and Shaw didn't want to be stuck in a place like this with a boring date. She looked at Root again, eyes dropping to Root's hands.

Watching as Root carefully tugged off her lace gloves, Shaw swallowed. It was hard to live in the same place as Root. She was very attractive and the fact that she was untouchable made Shaw want her more. Maybe it was time to find someone in New York who could help her burn off energy.

"I've seen the Pinsetter machines," Root said, pulling a glove off. "They're fascinating. I'm sad for the pinboys, but thankful for the convenience."

She removed her other glove and tucked them both into her purse. Looking away, Shaw fiddled with the pack of camels in her pocket. She started to take it out, but decided against it. She could wait until they were ready to bowl.

"I was a pinboy," Shaw told Root. She smirked when Root looked surprised. "It was my first job after...Out of high school. I didn't make too much, but it was something."

"Wow!" Root chuckled. "I'm sure it was a lot of exercise." She raised her hands defensively. "I think it's a perfectly respectable profession. It just seems like a lot of labor."

Shaw rolled her eyes, but she smiled. "It was. That job got me these bad boys."

She lifted an arm, flexing. Root's eyes darkened and she took a shaky breath. Shaw had discovered that Root was not immune to her charms. Shaw was thankful for the warming weather that allowed her to wear t-shirts. She'd started finding excuses to carry things, just to feel Root's piercing gaze on her.

Shaw dropped her arm, taking in the way Root blinked and smiled nervously. Before she could say anything, Reese turned around.

"We're at lane six," he said. His eyes slid past them and he smiled. "Harold and Grace are here."

She looked him over, taking in the small smile on his lips. He seemed happy to see his friends, but there was something different about his smile. Shaw couldn't figure out what it was, so she just turned around to greet the newcomers.

Harold was an older man, walking with a cane and wearing a suit. Shaw wanted to roll her eyes. Who wore a suit to a bowling alley? It shouldn't surprise her that Reese's friend overdressed as much as he did. Shaw felt a little out of place in her dark blue jeans, but decided she didn't care. She owed this man nothing.

Harold's wife was younger, with red hair and horn-rimmed glasses. Her dress was nice, satin and a dark grey. It was obviously expensive, but at least it wasn't particularly fancy. Shaw liked it, but she thought Root's blue dress was prettier.

"Hello," Harold greeted her, reaching out his free hand. "I'm Harold Finch. John's neighbor and Miss Groves' boss."

Shaw shook his hand, frowning. "Miss Groves?"

"That's me," Root said. She looked tense. "My given name."

"Oh." Shaw dropped his hand. "I didn't know."

Root just shook her head, hiking her purse up on her shoulders. Her face was carefully controlled, a small smile tugging at her lips. It impressed Shaw and she wondered if Root was always constructing herself. She might control herself in the same way Shaw did.

"I'm Grace," Harold's wife said, pulling Shaw's attention to her. "It's nice to meet you and nice to have another woman in the group."

Shaw smiled politely, sure that her face must look the same as Root's. "Happy to provide."

Grace laughed and Shaw took her hand back. She was already annoyed at the way the night was going. If it weren't for Reese, Shaw would never interact with people like this. She moved to the side and stood by Root.

"So," Shaw said quietly as Reese, Harold, and Grace strode past them to the lanes, "should I be calling you something other than Root?"

"No," Root answered immediately. She glared at Harold's back. "My name is Root."

Shrugging, Shaw started to follow the others. She glanced over her shoulder, an eyebrow raised. "Ok, Root."

Root grinned and hurried to catch up.

Their lane was across the alley and it took them a moment to walk to it. Shaw watched the families around them bowl, noticing some couples on dates and a few groups of teenagers, smoking, drinking, and laughing. She looked to Root.

"They serve beer here?"

Root nodded. "And food. We could get fries later?"

"I'll buy," Shaw answered. She pulled her Camels from her pocket and tapped the pack against her palm. "Do you drink?"

"A little," Root answered, shrugging. "Usually wine, but I've been known to indulge."

Shaw rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "I wouldn't say 'indulge' when you're trying to sound normal."

"I never try to sound normal," Root chuckled. "I was never very good at it."

"Me neither."

She pulled a cigarette from the box and stuck it between her lips. From the corner of her eye, she could see Root looking at her mouth. Holding the box out to her, Shaw offered her a cigarette, but Root held her hand up.

"No, thank you," Root said.

Shaw pulled the cigarette from her mouth. "Oh, sorry."

"You can smoke. I just don't. I'm not opposed, but whenever I try, I always end up coughing like an idiot."

Laughing, Shaw stuck it back into her mouth and slid her lighter out. "We'll have to have you practice in private."

Root laughed. "As much as I'd love to relieve my teenage years, I have to decline. I'll just watch you smoke and pretend I look as cool."

Shaw lit her cigarette, sucking on the end and holding her breath. She took the cigarette in her fingers, pulling it from her mouth. Dragging her eyes over Root, she let herself fully take her in.

Releasing her breath, she met Root's eyes. "I think you look good."

Root blushed. "Thank you."

They reached their lane and followed the others into their booth. Each lane had a seating area, cushioned seats that curved in a semi-circle, and a small table in the center with notepads to keep score. Root went to the table, spreading her skirt to sit and crossing her ankles. Harold, Grace, and John headed for the ball return, looking over the balls that already sat there.

Shaw stood in the center of their booth, smoking. She wasn't totally sure what she was supposed to do because her partner hadn't shown up yet, so she wandered over to Root and sat next to her in the empty seat at the table. Spreading her legs and getting comfortable, Shaw draped her arm over the back of Root's chair, tapped her cigarette over the glass ashtray the alley put on every table, and peeked at the scorecard Root was writing their names on.

"Are you any good?" Shaw asked.

Root jumped slightly, her cheeks turning pink. "What?"

"At bowling," Shaw clarified, leaning back in her seat. "Are you good at bowling?"

"I am," Root said, smirking. "It's one of the only sports I'm good at."

"You weren't too bad at street hockey."

Root raised an eyebrow, eyes full of humor as she turned to look at Shaw. "Don't mock me. I couldn't score against a bunch of kids."

"Those kids were vicious," Shaw joked. "Animals, all of them."

Root laughed, dipping her head to hide her blush. Shaw just watched her, putting the almost-finished cigarette between her teeth. There was always a glow around Root, like she was full of life and electricity. It caught Shaw's attention and she followed Root's smile with her eyes. Root glanced back at her, crossing her arms on the table.

"You were the vicious one," Root said, still chuckling. "I thought you were going to punch that one kid. You're an animal!"

Shaw growled quietly, pulling the cigarette from her mouth so she could bite her teeth together loudly. "I'm feral."

Root smirked as Shaw took a long drag of her cigarette. She leaned closer to Shaw, ducking her head to whisper into Shaw's ear. "I hope your bite is as good as your bark."

The tips of Shaw's ears grew hot and she turned her face to look at Root. They were so close that the tips of their noses almost brushed and Shaw pulled her cigarette out, freeing her mouth. She let the smoke trail from her mouth, and watched Root's red lips part to breathe it in.

Root's breath caught in her throat, but she didn't cough. Dragging her eyes up to meet Root's, she felt herself drawn in by Root's deep, expressive eyes. It took all of Shaw's self-control not to kiss her and prove just how much of a bite she had. Root's hand slipped off the table to rest on Shaw's thigh.

"Shaw!"

Jerking backwards, Shaw jumped out of her chair. Root was staring at her with wide eyes, a flush splashed across her face and chest. She looked disheveled despite the fact that they'd done nothing at all. Shaw wondered what she would look like after sex.

"Shaw!" Reese repeated, beckoning her over. "Come meet Matthew."

Stabbing her cigarette butt into the ashtray a little more viciously than she needed to, Shaw crossed their seating area to the ball return. A man was standing beside Reese, smiling at her. He waved as she got close.

"Hello," Matthew said, "I'm Matthew Reed. It's nice to meet you."

She held her hand out for him to shake. "Shaw. It's nice to meet you, too.:"

They shook hands and she was pleased to find that he had a strong hand, warm against her own. Shaw relaxed a little bit, smiling up at him through her lashes. He grinned down at her.

"So," Shaw said, not releasing his hand, "where did they find you?"

He laughed, confident and handsome. "I work with John. I'm a lawyer at the firm." He leaned into her, whispering confidentially. "I live on your street."

Shaw laughed, making sure to sound appropriately feminine and scandalized. "So forward!"

"I go after what I want."

She raised an eyebrow and finally released his hand. "Well, I only want a good bowler."

"You're in luck," Root interjected from the table. She seemed tense when Shaw turned to look at her. "Mr. Reed is on the neighborhood team. Star bowler."

Shaw looked at Root closely, taking in her tight shoulders and the same smile she'd given Harold when he called her by her old name. She wondered if something she'd done had made Root upset. Root met her eyes, almost looking angry. Matthew pulled Shaw's attention away and she turned her back to Root.

"Ready to bowl?" he asked her.

Shaw shrugged. "Sure."

He picked a ball from the return and started toward the lane. Smiling at Root, he lifted his ball with both hands. "Mind if we go first, Harold? Someone has to get it started."

"Go ahead," Harold said, gesturing for him to bowl. "Our order will be you, me, John, and then Miss Shaw, Grace, and Miss Groves. Miss Groves, would you mind keeping score?"

Root tensed again, but she nodded. "Of course."

Shaw glanced at Root again, watching as she set the score cards in order. She glanced up at Shaw, like she'd felt her gaze, and then down again at the cards. Shaw wanted to ask her what was wrong and why she suddenly seemed angry. Had their closeness earlier made Root uncomfortable? Did she know that Shaw slept with women? Did she think Shaw had been coming on to her?

Deciding it was a problem for later, Shaw turned away to watch as Matthew lined up his shot. He was attractive, tan and fit. He was dressed similarly to Reese, in dark pants and a light sweater, but it fit him differently. Maybe he'd be a great way to take her mind off Root and her angry eyes.

He swung his arm back, sweater stretching across his shoulders, and his ball sailed down the lane. It crashed into the center pin and knocked all the other pins down. He turned around, smirking, and held his hands out in a shrug. Shaw laughed and gave him a high five. Whatever she decided to do later, at least she knew they were going to win.

She took a seat on the bench, smiling at Matthew as he came to sit next to her.

"Root wasn't lying," Shaw said. "You really are a star bowler."

Matthew shrugged, feigning shyness. "I just practice a lot. You know, I'm glad they invited me. I like bowling and I like attractive women."

"So, this is a best case scenario for you."

"Exactly." Matthew stretched his arm across the back of her seat. "Tell me about yourself."

"What do you want to know?"

Reese came over to them as Harold bowled and sat on Matthew's other side. Shaw glared at him, warning him off, but Reese just gave her a slow smile and turned to Matthew.

"Reed," Reese said, "we should have invited you to bowl sooner. I didn't know you were so good."

Matthew shrugged. "Well, I was just telling Shaw here, I practice."

"Matthew," Shaw said, putting her hand on his thigh, "would you mind getting me a drink?"

"Of course!" He stood up. "What would you like?"

"A Bud."

He raised an eyebrow. "A woman after my own heart."

Shaw watched him walk away, eyes lingering on his jeans. When he was far enough away, she snapped her head around to glare at Reese. "What are you doing?"

"You were practically throwing yourself at him," Reese complained.

She rolled her eyes. "You're the one who set this date up."

"Because I think you would make a cute couple," he scolded. "Not so you could have sex with him once and make it very awkward in the office."

"I don't think it'll be a problem," she hissed. "He doesn't seem like the dating type."

"John?" Harold said from the end of the lane. "You're up."

He gave her one last squinty-eyed glare and stood. "Be good."

She stuck her tongue out at him and he just rolled his eyes and went to bowl. Shaw glanced over her shoulder, making sure Matthew hadn't come back yet, and hurried back to the empty seat beside Root.

"What do you think?"

Root sniffed and wrote down Reese's first score. "I think John's right."

"What?"

"You are coming on rather strong."

Shaw leaned away from Root, staring at her with hard eyes. She wanted Root to look at her, so she could try to get a read on how she was feeling, but Root kept her face forward, focused on Reese as he bowled.

Shaw scowled. "I'm not 'coming on strong'. I'm just being friendly."

A dark eyebrow arched, but Root still didn't look at her. "Alright. I've never known you to be friendly, but then again, I haven't known you that long."

"No, you haven't," Shaw bit.

She huffed and looked away, staring at the far wall. It wasn't a crime to flirt with a handsome man. She didn't know why Reese and Root were being so judgmental. Shaw wasn't married or even involved with anyone. If she wanted to have sex with a stranger, that was her prerogative.

Looking back at Root, she caught a sad frown on her face, before it disappeared. Root turned away again, resting her chin in her hand and tapping her pencil on the table. Something was happening that Shaw couldn't figure out. She'd never been good with emotions, her own or others, and Root was harder to read than most.

"Am I...embarrassing you?" Shaw tried. "You and Reese are upset because Harold is here?"

Root sighed softly. "Sure."

Shaw opened her mouth to try again, but closed it. If Root wasn't going to talk, then Shaw wasn't going to either. Root didn't mean anything to her and she'd always been good at ignoring Reese, so she decided to let it go. They could come to her later, but she wasn't interested in figuring it out.

Standing, she walked to the ball return to get ready for her turn. Matthew appeared beside her with a pint.

"I'm up next," she told him. "Could you hold it? I'll only be a second."

Grace laughed. "You're pretty confident!"

"She's really good," Reese offered. "Not star bowler of a league, but we played all the time as kids."

"During your rebellious childhood?" Harold joked.

Shaw carried her ball to the end of the lane and waited for the Pinsetter Machine to reset the pins. Reese dropped onto the seat beside Harold and she raised her eyebrows at him. It wasn't like him to talk about their gang years. Reese had only been a part of it for a couple years, but they'd gotten into some trouble.

He smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, we were regular deviants."

"That's hard to imagine," Root said from her seat. "I mean, Sameen, I can see, but you, John? I sort of imagined that you'd grown up wearing pressed khakis."

Shaw laughed, letting the hand holding her bowling ball fall to her side and swing loosely. "Almost! His mom is very meticulous. She loosened up when I moved in."

Root's eyes narrowed and Shaw could practically see the gears turning in her mind. She didn't say anything, though. Instead, Matthew spoke up.

"You two grew up together?"

Shaw turned to the lane to avoid answering. Their childhood was a sore subject, something she really hated talking about. She shouldn't have said anything at all. Lining up her shot, Shaw listened in to the group's conversation.

"We were friends in high school," Reese answered. "Middle school, too, I guess. Not as close."

"That must have been hard when you were drafted," Grace said kindly.

Shaw bowled. The ball sailed straight down the lane, knocking all the pins down. She nodded and turned to face the group again.

"I was glad to be rid of him," she joked. "More dinner for me."

Reese smiled at her, not taking her comment to heart. "Don't let her fool you," he chuckled. "She wrote to me every week. It was like a laundry list of misdemeanors with 'you better not die' scribbled at the end."

"You're up, Grace," Root said from the table. She leaned on her arms, looking between Reese and Shaw. "That's nice that you've known each other for so long. I don't have any friends from my hometown."

Shaw shrugged. "He's my only one, really, and I probably would have dumped him ages ago if he didn't keep making his mom find me."

"She's persistent," Reese agreed.

Grace took her ball and headed for the lane. Shaw watched Harold pat Reese on the back and frowned. Matthew held up her beer, pulling her attention to him, and she smiled, moving to sit beside him. Once she'd taken the glass from him, he draped his arm over her again.

"What business are you in, Shaw?" Matthew asked, looking down at her, with a smile.

She took a quick sip of her beer before answering. "I work for Hammarlund. The radio manufacturers."

"So, you're good with your hands, then?"

"Well," she said, meeting his eyes and confidence level, "I've had no complaints yet."

A throat-clearing drew Shaw's focus to Root, who was standing up from her seat.

"My turn," she said, shooting Shaw a pointed glance. "Could you keep score?"

Shaw rolled her eyes, but she stood, carrying her beer to the score table. As she sat, in the chair, she put her drink down and looked over the scorecards. She and Matthew were winning, of course. They'd both gotten strikes. The others had all gotten spares. At least it would be a tight game.

The sound of a large crash made her look up. She found Root smirking at her, a pile of pins behind her. She'd gotten a strike. Shaw just leaned back in her chair and put her feet up, crossing her legs on top of the scorecards.

"Not bad," she said, smirking back. "Beginner's luck."

"Make sure you write it down." Root swaggered back towards her. "Second place individual has to buy the winner a drink."

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Shaw watched Root bowl her last ball and groaned as all the pins fell. They'd finally finished their game and she had lost by one pin. Root had been bowling strikes all night, but Shaw had made a mistake and gotten one spare. Now she owed Root a drink.

Picking up her glass, she drained the last of her fourth beer. She had a pleasant buzz and that made her itch for some contact. Looking to Matthew in the seat next to her, she reached up to run her finger down his neck. They were pressed together, sides flush, the result of hours of flirting and drinking.

"Do you have plans tonight?" Shaw asked him. "I hope it's alright that I ask."

Grinning, he shifted in his seat to look down at her. "It's more than alright. I don't have anything else to do."

"Sameen!" Root called from her place by the lane. "You owe me a drink!"

Shaw sighed and let her head fall to the side. Root was smiling at her, and for a moment, Shaw considered going with her instead of taking Matthew home. She was spared from deciding when Reese spoke.

"We thought we'd get dinner," Reese said, gesturing to Harold and Grace. "You could save your drink for another night and come with us?"

Matthew's hand gripped Shaw's thigh, his fingers heating her skin even through her jeans. She put the hand by his neck onto his shoulder and whispered into his ear.

"Take me home."

His grip on her leg tightened and he straightened up. "Shaw, didn't you say something about your stomach?"

"Yes!" She clutched both of her hands to her stomach. "I don't feel good."

Root stepped towards her. "Do you need to go home?"

"I do," Shaw answered, trying to sound as pathetic as possible. "Don't end your night early on my account. Go have dinner."

Root's eyes darted between them and that same angry look began to form on her face. A moment later it was gone and the carefully crafted smile from earlier took its place. She moved to Reese's side and put her hand on his shoulder.

"We'll bring you something back," she finally said.

Shaw nodded, climbing to her feet. "Thank you."

Reese stood. "We'll drive you home."

"I can drive," Matthew said. "I haven't had too much. I was planning on taking Shaw out afterwards anyway."

Turning her back to the group so she didn't have to see their faces, Shaw pushed her hands into her pockets, fiddling with her box of Camels. It didn't bother her that the others would think she was promiscuous, but she didn't like Root's angry look. It put a knot in her stomach and she was just drunk enough to feel it.

"We'll see you later," he said to them. An arm wrapped around Shaw's shoulders and he smiled at her. "Ready?"

"Hell yes."

It didn't take them long to get back to Reese's house. The bowling alley was attached to the mall, so they made it home quickly. Through the whole drive, Shaw had been restraining herself. She was ready to sleep with Matthew, but he did live in the neighborhood and if she made a fool of herself, she'd have to live with it for who knew how long.

He stopped in front of Reese's house and Shaw unbuckled her seatbelt. She started to open her door, but Matthew jumped out and walked around the front of the car. Leaning back in her seat, Shaw let him come to her. It had been so long since she'd been with a man, she'd forgotten what it felt like to be catered to.

He opened the door and she stepped out of the car, onto the curb. She hurried up the walkway to the front door, pulling out her keys as she walked. Stopping in front of the door, she pushed the key into the lock.

Matthew's body pressed against her back, hands gripping her hips and pulling her backwards. She leaned against him, feeling his firm chest on her back as she unlocked the door. As soon as it was open, she turned around, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him inside.

Their lips crashed together and she pushed herself up onto her toes, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, trying to get as close as possible. He tugged her close with one hand the other hand reaching back to shut and lock the door. She sucked in air through her nose, his scent driving her on.

Once the door was locked, he slid his hands under her butt and lifted her, shifting to carry her. She wrapped her legs around his waist. Usually, she was annoyed at her small stature, but now she just groaned as she pressed her chest into his.

He tugged his head back. "Which way?"

"Door," she mumbled before kissing him again. "Stairs."

Shifting, he held her up with one arm and opened the door to her staircase. She dropped her arms between them to take her shirt off, lowering them just as they stepped through the doorframe. She knew she couldn't leave her clothing lying around, so she put it on his shoulder.

He started up the stairs, one arm pressing into her back. His hand was hot as it inched its way up to her bra. He unclasped it and put her down halfway up the stairs, covering her whole body with his. The front of his jeans brushed against her and she could feel that he was already hard.

Groaning, she lifted her arms, so he could pull the bra off of her. He moved to her chest immediately and she dropped her head back onto the stairs. She hadn't had sex in months now and the way he was kissing and touching her body was overwhelming. She closed her eyes as he unbuttoned her jeans.

The image of Root came to her mind, the triumphant smirk and angry eyes filling her vision. Matthew tugged her jeans and underwear down in one fell swoop and she moaned, ready for him to touch her. Behind her eyelids, she could see Root's mouth sucking in smoke, her lips hazy.

She opened her eyes, lifting her feet for Matthew to take off her shoes, and then she was naked, her pants tossed aside. Reaching for his belt, Shaw was surprised that he knocked her hands away. Instead, he scooted himself down the steps, eyes locked to hers. Lowering his face, he rubbed his cheek against the inside of her thigh, his end of day stubble scratching against sensitive skin.

He moved between her legs and she fell backwards again, melting against his mouth. Heat pooled in her body, and she moaned. Shaw loved a man who was willing to work. Licking her lips, she sat upright, resting her elbows on a step and looking down to watch him.

She dragged a hand through his short hair, tugging on it slightly. Watching him work made her want to do the same. Shaw wondered if anyone had done this for Root, if she knew how good it felt. Matthew pushed a finger inside her, and her mouth dropped open, panting.

Root had blushed just from being close to Shaw. What would she do if Shaw threw her down on the stairs, pushed her dress up and her stockings down, and licked her until she screamed? Shaw could feel the familiar tug at her stomach and pushed Matthew's face closer.

She would bet that Root was wild. Not with Reese, but that wild girl was in there. Shaw could imagine touching Root on her motorcycle. Maybe Root would wear her jacket, nothing underneath, but thin lace, her whole body blushing. Shaw groaned, her body clenching and shaking.

Matthew pulled away, lifting himself to his knees. He swiped his hand across his mouth, looking too satisfied. Shaw rolled her eyes.

"It's too early for you to look like that."

He raised an eyebrow. "It's never too early."

"That's what they all say," she joked.

She started to stand up, but he reached down and took her in his arms, lifting her in one smooth motion. She gasped in surprise at his strength. He started up the stairs again, looking even smuger than before.

As he got to the second floor, she reached down between them to unzip his pants. She could tell that he was as turned on as she was, ready for the next step. As she dipped her hands into his underwear, he hurried down the hall, stopping at the guest bedroom.

"Next one," she muttered, stroking him.

He swallowed hard, affected by her touch, and took them into her room. The rest of the night went quickly, a blur of him and his smell all around her. He was lean beneath his nice clothing, strong and hot.

He also had stamina. An hour later, Shaw found herself on her back, sheets sticking to her body with sweat. His head was tucked into her shoulder, his breathing loud in her ear, and she dug her nails into his back, trying to find purchase against slick skin.

She was starting to get bored. He'd made her come several times, and now she was just waiting for him to finish so he could leave. Closing her eyes, she tried to focus on his body, the way he was moving inside of her, the way his chest pressed against her breasts. It wasn't really working.

Trying a new tactic, she thought about Root again. Root's long legs. Root's sharp collarbone. The gentle curve of Root's waist. She imagined Root on the back of her motorcycle, sunglasses covering her eyes, long hair blowing in the wind. Root would cling to her for safety. She'd light cigarettes for Shaw, or open cans of beer with her long, perfect nails.

Shaw groaned, opening her eyes. Something caught her attention, and her head dropped to the side. Root was standing at her door, face red, plastic bag clutched in one hand and her skirt clutched in the other.

Shaw wasn't sure why she didn't yell at Root to leave, or why Root didn't hurry away like last time. Their eyes met, Root's surprised and dark. Matthew shifted, moving faster and Shaw moaned loudly, her breath coming in bursts.

Watching Root watch her was making Shaw hot again. She could feel it stretching to her toes and up through her chest. She licked her lips and watched Root do the same. Shaw gasped, eyes trying to flutter shut, but she kept them open.

Matthew started thrusting erratically, groaning in her ears. He lifted himself onto his elbows, leaving Shaw's chest exposed. Root's eyes dragged down her body, lingering on sweating breasts and abs. She almost took a step forward, her shoe just barely moving.

Shaw wanted to invite her in, offer her the chance to try something new, but she didn't. She just stared at Root, standing on the other side of the doorway. As Matthew started to pull out, Root backed up, one short step and then another. Shaw blinked and then she was gone.


	7. Forbidden Planet

Root stepped off the elevator in the lobby and smiled. Zoe was waiting for her by the front door. Since their dinner together a couple of weeks ago, Root and Zoe had been spending time together. It had only been a few times so far, but Root was glad for the company. Zoe waved and Root waved back, starting towards her.

For the past week, Root had been staying at her own apartment. She had left early on Monday morning, before Sameen had woken up for work, and stayed away. John had called her every night to talk, but she didn't want to go to his house right now. She couldn't face Sameen.

Stopping beside Zoe, Root smiled at her, tugging on her gloves. "Ready?"

Zoe looked at her for a moment before putting a hand on her hip. "Can I ask you a personal question, Root?"

"Um, I suppose."

"Is something wrong?" She asked, sighing. "You've seemed...off all week."

Root tensed and looked down, smoothing her hands over the skirt of her new satin dress. Apparently, she wasn't hiding her emotions as well as she had thought. If Zoe, who barely saw her, could tell she was upset, then Root was glad she hadn't gone to John's.

"I'm fine," Root lied, smiling again. "Just...not feeling well."

Zoe looked suspicious, but she just shrugged. "If you say so. I know we're new friends, but I'm here if you need to talk."

"Thank you," Root said. She meant it. Having friends was new to her and she was glad to have a good one like Zoe. "So, where are we going tonight?"

"Drinks?" Zoe asked, starting for the door. "I know a place with amazing margaritas."

Root grinned, ready to say yes, but as she stepped outside to the sidewalk, her spirits fell. The secretarial pool was still waiting for their bus, gathered like hens near the sign. Root frowned, ready to turn away, before being spotted, but she was too late.

"Nice dress," Martine crowed. "Good to see you're finally dressing for your role as uppity spinster."

"I'd say the same, but you've always dressed like a snobby bitch."

Root was surprised at her own response, eyes widening. Her nervousness about Sameen had kept her on edge all week and apparently she was losing control of herself. Martine looked shocked, her face paling.

"Root," Zoe said, her voice low, but full of warning, "I don't think now is the time to start a fight."

"I don't mean to," she said, blushing. "I don't know where that came from."

Martine sneered at her, the color returning to her face. "It's your true nature coming out. Women like you always shit on women like me."

Zoe rolled her eyes. "Your father got you this job, Martine. Go to college and then talk about working your way up."

Martine just turned away, back to her group of friends. "I swear," she said in a stage-whisper, "you put an expensive dress on a pig and it thinks it's the president."

Rolling her eyes, Root didn't bother answering. She just stalked away, letting the laughter of the secretaries roll off her back. Beside her, Zoe looked calm. Her dress was nicer than Root's, but no one ever bothered her. Root wished she could be that way.

"Tell me about margaritas," Root said as they stopped at the light, waiting to cross the street. "I need the distraction."

"It's at that new bar, Elias." She shrugged. "It's run by an Italian family, but I know for a fact that their margaritas are to die for."

"I haven't had one in so long."

Zoe smiled at her. "You've been deprived. Margaritas are a necessity. An essential food group."

Laughing, Root watched their walk signal flick on and started across the street. "I'm sure they are. John doesn't take me to places that serve margaritas. He's more interested in whiskey and beer."

"Both ends of the spectrum, huh?"

Root chuckled and pushed her purse higher onto her shoulder. Further ahead on the sidewalk, someone tossed a newspaper into a garbage can prompting their friends to laugh at them. Squinting, Root realized that it was Sameen, strolling down the sidewalk with her friends, running her hands through her short, messy hair.

Root stopped in her tracks, feeling her blood run cold. She couldn't face Sameen right now. She wasn't prepared. Zoe laid a hand on her arm, concerned.

"Are you alright?" Zoe asked her. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Shaking her head, Root spun on her heel, turning her back to Sameen. "I can't talk to her."

"Who?"

"Root?" Sameen's voice asked from behind her. "Is that you?"

It felt like her stomach had turned to stone. Without trying, Root could see Shaw's eyes on her, see her sweating skin plastered to the bed, hear the way she gasped. It made her nauseous and she wanted to run away. In front of her, across the street, she could see Martine and the other secretaries stepping onto the bus.

Zoe's hand dropped from her arm. A moment later, Root could hear her speaking.

"I'm Zoe. Morgan. I work with Root."

"Oh," Sameen replied, "Uh, I'm Shaw. I live with Reese."

"It's so nice to meet you. I've heard a lot."

At that, Root shook herself free from her thoughts and turned around. She smiled tightly at Sameen and then turned her attention to her friends. One was a middle-aged man who looked a little gruff. The other was a very pretty woman, an eyebrow raised as she looked Root over.

"Hello," Root said, her voice sounding strange, even to herself. She held her hand out to the woman, smiling as she shook her hand. "I'm Root."

"Joss," the woman replied. "I work with Shaw."

Root gave her hand to the man.

"Fusco," he said, shaking her hand gently. "I gotta say, you look much nicer than I thought you would."

Eyes flicking to Sameen, Root saw that the tips of her ears had turned red. "Sameen talks about me?"

"Sameen!" Fusco repeated. "Always makes me laugh- Oof!"

Sameen had elbowed him in the side. He stumbled, bumping into someone else. They frowned at him as he apologized. Despite her stress, Root felt a smile tug at her lips. At least Sameen hadn't changed because of what had happened.

"So," Sameen started, shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her overalls, "are you going to be around this weekend?"

Root shrugged. "I haven't decided yet."

Nodding, Sameen looked around at the city, squinting. Root could almost hear her telling herself to be casual in her head. Any other time and Root would love to see Sameen so awkward, but now it was just reminding her of why she was so upset.

"Maybe," Root tried. "I...might have plans, though."

"Ok." She pulled out her pack of Camels. "Just...let me know if you want to see a movie."

Root couldn't imagine being in a darkened room with Sameen right now. Well, she could, but her thoughts always drifted somewhere she didn't want them to go. The group stood in silence for a moment, then Joss cleared her throat.

"We're going to get a drink," she said, "if you'd like to join us."

Zoe's eyes narrowed. "No, thank you. We already have dinner plans."

Root looked from Zoe to Joss, wondering why they looked so suspicious of each other. She supposed that Zoe might judge Sameen and her friends for their job, and maybe Joss judged Zoe for her money. Root could understand where the tension came from, remembering their own argument at the movie theater.

Because she wasn't interested in hanging out with Sameen, Root didn't say anything. When Sameen looked at her, face carefully guarded, Root just hiked her purse higher on her shoulder. Meeting Sameen's eyes made her stomach turn even more and Root felt like she might throw up.

It was all becoming too much for her to handle and she turned to Zoe, desperate to get away. Sensing her discomfort, Zoe nodded at her, smiling gently. She laid her hand on Root's arm again.

"Root isn't feeling well," she told them. "We should go."

Frowning, Sameen took a step closer. "What's wrong?"

Root shook her head. "I can't."

She hurried forward, pushing past Sameen and her friends. Keeping her head down, she walked down the sidewalk as fast as she could without running. Once she had crossed another street, and was safely on the next block, she slowed to a stop.

It was suffocating her to feel so much and not be able to do anything with it. Her heart raced in her chest, and Root pressed her gloved hands to her cheeks, trying to cool her face. She didn't have to words to express how she felt, didn't have anyone to turn to for advice, and now she couldn't even spend time with her boyfriend without fear that she'd burst into tears.

"Root," Zoe said, startling her, "what is it?"

"Can I talk to you?" Root asked. She was sure she looked wild, with wide-eyes and short breaths. "Please? I know we're not that close, and it's sort of...weird, I guess. But I need to talk to someone or I'll go crazy."

Zoe grasped her arms, looking worried and sincere. "Of course, you can. Here? Or should we go somewhere private?"

"My apartment is nearby."

They didn't say anything for the short walk to Root's home. Root's mind was spinning as she tried to figure out what she would say. What was even wrong? Was it just that she'd seen Sameen having sex? Was it that her crush was growing?

Zoe was more experienced than she was, more worldly. Root could probably just talk at her for a while and Zoe would understand it. She'd probably have wonderful advice that would solve all of Root's problems.

After a while, they reached Root's apartment building. It wasn't particularly nice, but Root wasn't ashamed. She paid a reasonable amount and it was more than big enough for just her. Greeting the doorman, she waited for him to open the door and then headed inside.

The lobby was fairly small, just the front desk on the left and the mailboxes on the right. She didn't bother to look around the room, choosing instead to hurry forward to the elevators. They opened when she pressed the buttons and she stepped in, holding the door for Zoe.

Pressing the button for the fourth floor, Root sighed and leaned against the wall. She looked at Zoe.

"You must think I'm crazy."

Zoe smiled gently, taking her purse off her shoulder to hold in her hands. "I don't. We all get a little crazy sometimes and I'm more than happy to be your confidante."

Root pulled off her gloves. "Thank you. I think I've finally found a puzzle I can't solve."

"Wow," Zoe chuckled, "too complicated for you to figure out? I don't know how much help I'll be then."

The doors opened and Root stepped out into the hallway. She'd moved to this apartment when Harold had hired her. She didn't know what her salary would be, or how long she'd be working there, so she'd chosen somewhere nicer than where she'd lived during college, but not so nice that she'd have to move out should she lose her job. She might have moved when she'd gotten promoted two years ago, but John might be ready to propose and she wouldn't have wanted to move again so soon.

The hall was long and wide. It was dimly lit, the lights set into the ceiling casting a yellow glow over the white walls. There were only four apartments on each floor, and Root's was at the end. She stuck her gloves into her purse and pulled out her keys.

"It's a bit cluttered," Root apologized as she stopped in front of her door and started to unlock it. "I keep my personal projects here and I never have guests."

"I'm sure it's alright."

Root opened the door to her apartment and stepped aside, letting Zoe enter first. She liked her apartment. The outside wall had a row of windows, showing a beautiful view of the sunset. Beneath each window was a long bench. Root loved to sit there and watch the nightlife of the city.

Her living room wasn't too exciting, except for the windows. It had a sitting area with a television set, and a dining area across the room. A small, open kitchen sat just past the dining table. Root didn't cook that much so she never had food in the apartment. When Zoe left, she'd probably just walk to the Chinese restaurant down the block.

The door to her bedroom was on the wall opposite the kitchen. She'd splurged when she'd moved in and bought a king bed. Her college years had made her tired of curling up to fit into small beds, so she'd treated herself to a large one. She also had a desk in her room, where most of her work sat.

Zoe walked to the couch and put her purse down. Looking over the room as she tugged her gloves off, her eyes seemed to notice absolutely everything. It made Root nervous, like she'd left something out that Zoe shouldn't see, but the only embarrassing thing in the living room was the dining table, which was covered in metal and wires.

"I love the view," Zoe said, gesturing with her gloves to the window seat. "Let's sit there."

Root nodded. She dropped her purse and keys onto the dining table, on top of a spool of copper wire. "It's my favorite part of the apartment."

Zoe smiled at her, smoothing the back of her skirt to sit. "It's very nice." She rested her hand on the windowsill, balancing herself to look out, down at the city. "It's a little scary to be so close to the glass."

"You get used to it," Root chuckled. She sat a few feet away from Zoe, leaning her shoulder against the cool window. "It feels like I'm outside. Part of the action."

Continuing to look out, Zoe sighed. "Tell me what's bothering you, Root."

Root licked her lips, clasping her hands in her lap. "I'm...not sure what to say."

"Start with that girl. Sameen Shaw, was it?"

"It was," she answered. Root bent down to unbuckle her shoes. "I'm- She's nice. John's best friend. My… Well, my nothing, I guess." She pulled her shoe off and moved to the next one. "She's mysterious. Intimidating, but she's kind. She holds doors open for me and I'm fairly sure she let me win at bowling last Sunday." Pulling off her other shoe, Root lifted her legs, tucking them underneath herself. "A tough nut to crack. That's part of the problem."

Zoe didn't answer right away. Root shifted to get comfortable on the seat. When she looked at Zoe again, she was startled to see how serious she was.

"What?" Root asked, leaning against the window again. "Now you look upset."

"Do you…" Zoe trailed off. She pursed her lips. "How is your relationship with John?"

Root was surprised by the question, but she answered. "It's fine. He's nice. He works a lot, but I enjoy spending time with him."

"Most girls would talk about love."

"Oh, well, I love him," Root chuckled. "I wouldn't be with him if I didn't."

Zoe looked out the window again. "Did something happen to make you so tense around Sameen?"

Root her hair behind her ears, she turned to look up at the stars. "You could tell?"

"Root," Zoe started, giving her a sympathetic look, "I think even the lampposts could tell she was making you uncomfortable."

"I don't want to be uncomfortable, but… Do you think it's normal to like your friends?"

Zoe raised an eyebrow. "Define 'like'."

Root lifted a hand and pressed it to the cold window. "Like as in… be with them. Intimately. I don't mean sex," she explained, lifting her hands defensively in front of her. "I just mean… be close to them. Think about them. Need them more than boys."

"I suppose it depends," Zoe answered. "I've had best friends, for sure. I think I'll want a husband eventually. I'll probably prioritize him more than my friends when we're married."

"I think that's my problem," Root sighed. "I don't want to prioritize John."

"What do you want?"

"When I was younger, I only had two dreams. One dream was to go to space. I wanted to set foot on the moon. The other dream was to live with my best friend in a big city, far from my small town and all the boys that smelled like sweat and anger. I learned that young women don't work for NASA and so I would never make it to space. I'm beginning to learn that I don't just want to live with a 'best friend.' I want something more than that, but I don't think women are allowed to do that either."

She swallowed hard, dropping her gaze to the city. A couple walked by below. The boy had his arm wrapped around his girlfriend, holding her close to him and safe from the encroaching night. Her hands lightly tugged on her skirt.

"I don't think I'll ever do anything. About the way I feel. I just…" She sighed and looked at Zoe, meeting her sad gaze with one of her own. "It's hard to live with Sameen. She looks like… I'm attracted to her. I think. I'll admit it. I went to give her food last Sunday night after dinner, and I saw her naked, having sex. I wanted to join them." She laughed, humorlessly. "I wanted to replace Matthew. The look in her eyes… I think she would have let me."

Zoe reached out, covering Root's hands with her own. "I'm so sorry, Root."

"Why?" Root asked, almost begging. "Why do I feel this way? Why are you sorry?"

"I can't tell you why you feel like this, but I can tell you I'm sorry that you can't act on your feelings. That we live in a world that forbids it."

Root tensed. "I don't know that I'm 'forbidden.' I just...don't know anyone who lives the- the lifestyle that I want."

Zoe sighed, pulling her hands away and leaning back. "You know that bar that I keep you from?"

"The Black Cherry?"

"Yes." She pulled her legs up onto the bench. "It's a bar for people… I'm not sure what the word for it is, but they have relationships with their own gender. It's a place where people who have … certain tendencies to spend time with others like them."

Root's mouth dropped open. "What? I should go there! I could talk to them!"

"No," Zoe shook her head. She looked like she almost pitied Root. "It's not safe. They're raided once a month, if not more. Arrested for nothing but suspected impropriety. Your reputation would be tarnished beyond repair if you even stepped inside. You have worked too hard to throw it away on emotion and sexual desire."

"Is that where Joss invited us to?" Root asked. "Is that where...Sameen...goes?"

Nodding, Zoe sighed. "Sameen is strong. She can survive the reality, but I don't think you could, Root. You're tough, sure, but you've never been beaten."

The thought of someone hurting Sameen made Root's skin crawl. "Do you think…"

"Sameen has definitely been hurt." Zoe definitely pitied Root now. "It doesn't have to happen to you. You have a boyfriend, a rich and successful boyfriend, and a good career. I would hate to see you lose that because you're feeling infatuated by a woman's freedom."

"I don't think it's her freedom I'm infatuated by," Root chuckled. She thought of Sameen's dark eyes, her red lips bared to show white teeth, her arms bare beneath a tight white t-shirt. "I also don't think I'd bring emotion into it."

Zoe sighed with relief. "That's great. This might be forward, but forget what you're feeling, Root. Nothing good with come of it. You can be friends with Sameen, but ignore your attraction. It's for the best."

Root wasn't sure she could just pretend that Sameen didn't make her feel things. From the moment she saw her, Root had felt different. Something had changed inside her, a new secret had been discovered, and she didn't know that there was a way to come back from that.

The fear of danger did worry her, though. What if she lost her career? Or John? She might not be sure she wanted to marry him, but that didn't mean she wanted to lose him. He was so close to Mr. Finch; would breaking up with him hurt her professional relationship?

Root sighed loudly and let her head fall against the glass. On the street below, she could see another couple. The man had pushed the woman against a light pole to kiss her. Root imagined Shaw trapping her like that, creeping her hands under Root's skirt.

"I could try," Root gave in. "Maybe being friends with her would show me that I'm just… I don't know, fascinated by how bold she is. Jealous of her rebelliousness."

"Exactly," Zoe agreed. "I've been there. You think I haven't fantasized about riding off into the sunset on the back of a motorcycle? It's most of what I do at work."

Root laughed. She felt like a little bit of weight had been lifted from her. She'd been right. Her crush on Sameen wasn't anything out of the ordinary. It was the same as all the other little crushes she'd had on friends growing up and it meant nothing.

"Do you think it's prudish of me to be so embarrassed at seeing Sameen naked?" Root asked, blushing. "It's happened twice now. She just leaves doors open."

Zoe rolled her eyes, waving a hand dismissively. "If you're not used to it, then you're not used to it. It's not wrong of you to be surprised. You should ask her to be more conscientious, though. What if John had seen her those two times?"

Root gasped. "I think he would have fainted!"

They laughed together and Root felt even better. She looked out the window again at the stars. It would be nice to be real friends with Sameen. She knew John better than anyone and Root could use some insight into her stoic boyfriend. Once she knew Sameen as a person, the mystery would be gone, and Root wouldn't have anything to fantasize about.

She smiled at Zoe. "Thank you," she said sincerely. "I thought I was going to explode."

"I've been there," Zoe said. "Secrets have a way of expanding inside of you. I've learned to manage and I'm sure you will, too."

"Yeah," Root said, "I've kept it this long. What's a few years more?"

The phone rang and Root stood to answer it.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Later, Root lay in John's bed. She'd gone back to his house after she finished talking to Zoe. Now that she knew she wasn't interested in Sameen, she felt like she should put more energy into her relationship to John. His work was keeping him busy, but that wasn't his fault.

She pushed herself backwards on the bed, into his chest. His arm hugged her closer. Root focused on the feeling of his skin against her own. Did she like it? Or was she just used to it?

His skin was not as soft as hers. It was almost coarse and the dark hair that covered his chest and arms always scratched and tickled her unpleasantly. She liked his strong arms, though, and the way he clung to her like she was an anchor. She wished he could be an anchor for her.

Sighing softly, Root pushed his arm away. He rolled over easily, scooting to put some distance between them. She stared up at the ceiling, wondering what she was going to do for the next few years.

If she knew how long Sameen would be living with them, Root could make a plan. She could make a list of Dos and Don'ts and carefully check it until their time was up. As it was, she just needed to do her best to ignore the way her heart sped when Sameen stood close to her.

Rolling over, Root threw her arm over John's side, pressing herself against him again. Her plan to befriend Sameen felt like a good one. Knowing her better would let Root figure out what she was thinking, find some bad qualities.

There was no way that the reality of Sameen was better than the fantasy Root had built in her head. Sameen was probably boring. They probably had nothing in common beyond the fact that they both enjoyed tinkering and horror films.

John groaned softly and Root rested her cheek against his back. Sometimes, John had nightmares, memories of his time at war. They had lessened recently, but Root knew they could always come back.

It made her sad that both John and Sameen had experienced pain. Sameen was attacked because she didn't fit in and John was attacked because he fought for their freedom. Root didn't know what that was like. She knew about poverty and hunger and fighting against men who would take her job, but that was nothing compared to what the two of them had gone through.

Sighing, Root closed her eyes. She should sleep. Tomorrow was May Day and she wanted to take Sameen to the picnic. As she lay, curled against John, images of Shaw surfaced in her mind, like they had been for weeks. Root was tempted for a moment to push them away, but she didn't.

Even if she had to suppress her feelings, pretend that she didn't feel warm when she was around Sameen, she could still dream. Thinking about Sameen's hand in hers, or the way Sameen would feel pressed to Root's chest, wouldn't hurt anybody. As long as it stayed in her head, she was safe.


	8. Sideshow

Shaw whistled as she walked across the living room, her bare feet taking silent steps across the carpet. Living in Reese's house was like living in a hotel, without the maid service. Although, he did have a washer and dryer, which was a very nice luxury. She stopped outside of the kitchen, stretching her arms over her head.

Reese's house was starting to feel like her home. She was only there to sleep on weekdays and then she was usually dragged out by the other occupants, but still. She was getting comfortable. She hadn't decided if that was a good thing or a bad thing yet.

Dropping her arms, she looked around the house. It was messier than it normally was. Nothing too obvious, but Reese's papers were strewn on the table and a few of Shaw's morning mugs sat on the coffee table. Root had been gone since Sunday.

Sighing, Shaw walked to the coffee table, going down the two steps, gathering her mugs, and starting for the kitchen again. Maybe she was getting too comfortable after all. Root wasn't her girlfriend, and even if she were, Shaw wouldn't make her clean up all the time. How could Root work on any of her projects if she was always busy?

Shaw set her mugs onto the counter carefully. Instead of cleaning them, she just shifted them into the sink and pulled a new one down. There was nothing on her schedule for the day, so she'd get around to the mugs eventually.

Putting her mug down next to the coffee maker, Shaw leaned her hips against the counter and just rested for a moment. Her conversation with Root the day before had been awkward enough for Shaw to notice, and it made her feel weird. Maybe it was the lingering fogginess of sleep, but she felt badly about the awkwardness.

When Root had seen her and Matthew together, Shaw hadn't really thought it would matter. Root had seen her naked once before and, yes, sex was different, but Root hadn't jumped away. She'd seemed so odd in the moment and Shaw just wasn't emotionally aware enough to figure it out.

She'd been gone since then. Shaw had managed to chase away Reese's girlfriend in less than a month. They hadn't even fought. It would be easier if they had because then Shaw could apologize and make all of it go away. Instead, she was left to stew in her own thoughts and try to understand what had even happened.

It wasn't like Shaw hadn't caught people having sex before. In their high school years, Shaw had walked in on John more times than she could count. She usually just shut the door and came back later. Sex was natural and fun and Root just needed to loosen up.

Root hadn't even seen her with a woman, so what was there to be scandalized about? For all she knew, Shaw only liked men. It wasn't true, but most people didn't know there were other options. Root probably didn't even know that two women could have sex.

Chuckling softly, Shaw pushed herself off the counter and reached for the metal tin of coffee grounds. She pulled the lid off with a grunt and took the small spoon out. Setting it aside, she took the carafe from the coffee maker and moved to the sink to fill it.

Shaw wondered if Root was attracted to her. Did she like men and women, too? Smirking, Shaw remembered her first night in the house when she heard Reese and Root together. Root's moan had sounded so practiced and canned. Shaw could show her a better time. She always had time for attractive women.

Turning the sink off, Shaw moved back to the coffee maker, pouring the water into its place. Root wasn't available, she reminded herself. Setting the carafe back on the warmer, she paused. Maybe Root could sense her thoughts and that was why she was so put off.

Shaw tended to flirt with anyone she thought deserved it and it usually went her way. Root wasn't interested in women, though, and if she was, she was taken. All of Shaw's flirting might have made Root uncomfortable. It could be her fault after all.

Taking a paper filter from the stack next to the coffee tin, Shaw lifted the lid of the maker and put it inside. She should back off a little bit. Root seemed like she needed friends, though. Shaw could be a good friend. She dumped coffee into the filter using the tiny, silver spoon.

When she was done, she closed the coffee maker, pressed the start button, and put the spoon back into the tin. Shaw would ignore her attraction, she decided finally. She'd be friends with Root because Root seemed interesting and she was Reese's girlfriend. Those were good enough reasons.

Sighing, she closed the tin and put it back in its place. She walked to the breakfast booth and dropped heavily onto the cushion. Her next problem was figuring out what to do with Root. Shaw didn't know her number, or if she even had a phone, so she couldn't call her. How was she supposed to make up with Root if Root wasn't around?

"Good morning."

Shaw jerked her head around to the doorway. Leaning against the doorframe, dressed in a soft yellow linen dress, was Root. She looked calm for the first time in weeks. Shaw leaned back in her seat and smiled.

"Good morning."

Root pushed her hair behind her ear. "I was just about to make coffee."

"Way ahead of you," Shaw joked. "I make the coffee now."

"Replaced already, I see." Root smiled to show she was joking and moved into the kitchen. "Do you want breakfast? I could make eggs."

Shaw shrugged. "Ok. Thanks."

Root nodded and walked to the fridge. Pulling it open, she stuck her head inside. When she emerged, she had a carton of eggs. Shaw watched her start to walk back to the counter and stop. She seemed to struggle silently with herself, and then she looked at Shaw.

"I'm sorry," Root apologized, "for being so weird on the street yesterday. I was just...uncomfortable with seeing you so...indisposed. It wasn't your fault. I'm fine now, but I'm sorry."

Shaw leaned an elbow on the table and dropped her chin into her palm. "It's ok. I figured that's what happened. I really need to learn how to close doors."

Root laughed. "You do!"

Shaw gave her the middle finger and Root laughed, finally used to Shaw's vulgarity. She pulled a pan out of a cabinet and set it on the stove. Shaw just watched her move around the kitchen with ease.

Root was still an enigma to her, some feminine creature that defied expectation and understanding. Shaw was getting used to it, though. She didn't really care about understanding Root and she knew it had only been three weeks since they met. It took Shaw ages to understand people well.

Her work wasn't paying enough for her to save much, so she'd probably be around for a while longer. Once she started paying rent, she'd have even less to save. Root cracked eggs one handed into the pan and Shaw raised an eyebrow.

"You're good at that."

Root looked over at her as she cracked the other egg. "This? It's easy."

"I don't think I could do it," she replied. "You're so dextrous."

Root blinked her eyes at her and turned away. Shaw frowned. Was that supposed to be a wink? She blushed, surprised that she found Root's failure cute. Who didn't know how to wink? Root cracked two more eggs into the pan with ease.

"Hey, Root?"

"Yeah?" Root asked, pulling a spatula from a drawer.

Shaw licked her lips. "Could you wink at me again?"

Arching a perfect eyebrow, Root turned to look at her. "I was just joking."

"I know, but-" Shaw rolled her eyes. "Just do it."

Looking amused, Root blinked at Shaw again, her cheek scrunching up to one side. Shaw laughed, covering her face with one hand. She'd been right. Root couldn't wink and it was very cute. Shaw dragged her hand down her face, dropping it into her lap, and grinned at Root.

"You can't wink, Root."

Pink spread across Root's face. "What?"

"You can't wink!" Shaw imitated what Root had done. "That's what you do." She scrunched her face again. "Like that."

Root turned away, face red, and focused on the eggs in front of her. "Well…" she started, trailing off. "I'm not dextrous everywhere."

Shaw chuckled. "We can't all be perfect."

Flipping an egg, Root just chuckled, too. They sat in silence for a moment, just breathing and Shaw pulled her legs up onto the seat in front of her. She was dressed for comfort today, just a t-shirt and a pair of men's linen pants. The weather was warming outside and she wasn't sure if she was allowed to turn the Central Air on yet.

Root flipped the eggs again and moved the pan to another burner. "Alright, they're done." Beside her, the coffee machine beeped. "Just in time. Your usual?"

"Yeah," Shaw answered. "Thanks."

She dropped her feet and faced the table, ready for breakfast. Her 'usual' was two eggs over easy and a cup of black coffee. Idly, she kicked her feet against the booth and wondered if she should be upset that Root knew her preferred breakfast. She wasn't upset, though. She liked it.

Root appeared next to her and put a plate of eggs and a cup of coffee down in front of her. She smiled her thanks and started to eat. The silence hovered in the air between them, only the sounds of Shaw eating and Root putting her plate together filling the kitchen. It felt calm, peaceful, and Shaw didn't feel the need to say anything.

Root sat down across from her, putting her food and coffee down. She glanced at Shaw's plate and laughed.

"It's been thirty seconds," Root chuckled. "How are you already finished?"

Pulling her fork from her mouth, Shaw looked down at her plate. It was already empty. Smiling, embarrassed, she put her fork down.

"I was hungry."

Root took a sip of her coffee, looking amused. "You know, whatever your situation was before, you're eating regularly now. You don't have to scarf everything down."

"I grew up with Reese," she replied, "and then a bunch of hungry teenagers. I think I'll eat as fast as I can for the rest of my life."

"That's fair, I suppose." Root put her mug down and started on her breakfast. "I'd love to hear about your childhood. Maybe your time with John? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Shaw didn't really want to, but she could understand Root's curiosity. Reese wasn't the type to talk about the past, or anything really, so Root probably didn't know anything. She'd been surprised to learn that Shaw used to live with Reese. Shaw picked up her coffee mug.

"Uh, sure," she answered. She took a quick sip of coffee. "What do you want to know?"

Root shrugged, taking a delicate bite. "Anything. Why did you live with him?"

"I'm not sure we're that close yet," Shaw joked, trying to deflect. "I...had a problem. With a classmate. And a politician. I was expelled from high school and homeless, so Mrs. Reese took me in."

"That's really nice of her."

"It was a big risk," Shaw laughed. "Reese was a goody two shoes, ready to join the army and fight for America. His dad was in the army, but died when Reese was really young. I think she wanted me to loosen him up a little bit and she thought he could straighten me out."

Root smiled. She moved her plate aside and put her arms on the table, leaning forward, her mug clasped in her hands. "I can imagine John as a rule-follower."

"Not a toe out of line ever," Shaw replied. She slumped back against the booth, pulling her legs up in front of her. "He went to school, had a part-time job, and took care of his mom. That was about it. Until I showed up and convinced him to become a Mayhem boy, anyway."

"A 'Mayhem boy'?" Root asked. "Was that the name of your gang?"

Shaw nodded, drinking her coffee. "The Mayhem Boys. And me."

"So, you've never been feminine, then?"

Laughing, Shaw put her mug down and rested her arms on her knees. "No way! I shaved my head when I was fourteen and it was never longer than a few inches again."

"That's amazing," Root sighed. "I'm jealous."

Shaw tilted her head. "You could pull it off, I think. I mean, please don't. Your hair is beautiful, but you could if you wanted to."

Root blushed, raising her mug to hide her face. She drank. Shaw watched her, running her eyes over Root's soft curls and long fingers. She really was beautiful. Shaw hadn't been jealous of Reese in a long time, not since their Mayhem days, but she felt jealous of him now. She wanted to reach across the table and push aside the curl that had fallen in front of Root's face.

As if she read Shaw's mind, Root reached up and tucked the hair behind her ears. The movement reminded Shaw that she wasn't going to think about Root like that anymore. She wanted Root to be comfortable around her and lusting after her across the breakfast booth wasn't going to make that happen.

"So," Shaw breathed, changing the subject, "do you want to see a movie tomorrow? Maybe two since we didn't get to see one last Sunday?"

"Actually," Root said, grinning, "I was wondering if we could do something today."

"Today?" Shaw pretended to think, not wanting to seem too eager.. "I guess I don't have any plans. We could see a movie today."

Root put her mug aside. "Not a movie. It's May Day."

"Mayday?" Shaw repeated. "Is that...a war thing?"

"No," Root laughed. "May Day is May 1st. It's not a big holiday, but we have a lot of people from other countries around here, Italians and Swedes and the like, and it's a pretty popular holiday in Europe. Our neighborhood usually hosts a picnic in the park and there are food stands and fireworks. The kids do a maypole. It's a lot of fun!"

Shaw didn't think any of that sounded fun, except for the food stands, but Root was excited and Shaw had made up her mind to be friendly, so she just shrugged. A day in the park wouldn't kill her. She should probably breathe in some fresh air to offset all the stale, city air.

"Alright," Shaw replied. "It sounds fun. What time is it?"

"Not for a few hours." Root picked up her mug and plate and started sliding out of the booth. "No need to rush."

Shaw wasn't doing anything until then, so she just shrugged again. "Ok. Is there anything we can do in the meantime? I'm in the mood to do something."

"Let me think," Root said as she walked to the sink. "I won't bore you with my personal projects… I was going to work on John's car. He says it's making a terrible noise."

"I can help with that!" Shaw climbed out of the booth and walked to the counter. "I'm great with cars."

Root put the dishes into the sink and leaned against it. "I'm pretty good with cars, too."

"Then, let's go!"

Shaw snapped her fingers and hurried out of the kitchen, not giving Root a chance to protest. As she crossed the living room, she realized that she wasn't wearing shoes. Deciding she didn't care, she walked down the steps to the front door.

She unlocked the front door and opened it, stepping out into the warm air. It was a beautiful day. The sky was blue above them, and a light breeze swirled in the air. Shaw looked over her shoulder to see Root standing behind her.

"It's a nice day for a picnic," Root said, following her out. "I'm excited for summer. I think it's almost warm enough to go swimming."

She started for the car and Shaw trailed behind her, feet sinking into the cool, damp grass. She didn't own a swimsuit. It had been so long since she'd been near a pool that she hadn't even thought about buying one. She should, though. Maybe Root would go with her and they could try on bathing suits together.

Reminding herself not to think about Root like that, Shaw sighed. The grass ended and the ground turned to asphalt. It was spiky beneath her feet and she took ginger steps toward Reese's car.

It was a Ford Chrestline Fordor and a beautiful, rusty orange. Shaw was jealous of the nice car, even though she loved her bike. This was the kind of car that the gang used to fantasize about stealing. It was hard to believe that Reese had bought one.

"I love this car," Shaw said, taking careful steps toward the hood. "Always wanted one."

Root smiled at her, pushing the keys into the driver's door. "Mr. Finch convinced John to buy it. John used to drive a real clunker and Harold finally got sick of looking at it. He took John to the dealer himself."

She dropped into the front seat as Shaw stopped in front of the hood, ready to open it. Something wasn't right with John's relationship to Mr. Finch. They spent a lot of time together and Shaw could remember a time that Reese wasn't entirely into women. She trusted him, though, and if something was happening, he would tell her.

She looked at Root in the driver's seat as she pushed the button to unlock the hood. Shaw couldn't imagine cheating on a woman like Root. Root was smart, attractive, and nice to spend time with. There were few women like her.

"Ok," Root said, leaning to the side to speak out the open driver's door. "I'm going to start the car. Open the engine."

Shaw nodded and reached under the hood for the lever. Finding it, she pulled it and lifted the hood. The engine hummed to life and a terrible screeching noise filled the air. Root appeared beside her, wincing at the sound. She leaned in, hands on her hips.

After a moment, she pointed at the fanbelt and walked back around to the side of the car. The noise stopped and Shaw figured Root had turned the car off. She wasn't used to looking at cars this new. Shaw mostly worked with old, run down vehicles.

"The belt," Root said, coming back around. "We'll have to get a new one. I can use my stocking for now and get a new one tomorrow."

Shaw blinked, caught off-guard. "Your stocking?"

"Yeah." She leaned her butt against the car and lifted her foot. Unbuckling her heels, she looked at Shaw. "I'll wrap it between the engine and the alternator to keep it going. It's not a permanent fix, but it'll be good enough to drive to the mechanics."

Root dropped her shoe to the ground and lifted her skirt to unclip her garter. Shaw remembered the last Friday night when she'd helped Root take her stockings off to play hockey. Her legs had been as smooth as the silk fabric Shaw had pulled from her feet. Root got one clip off and Shaw jumped forward, covering Root's hands with her own, stopping her from taking the stocking off.

Root froze beneath her, her whole body stilling. Shaw wasn't sure why she'd done that instead of just telling Root to stop. Now, she had her hands pressed to Root's warm thigh and couldn't tear her eyes away.

Her skin was dark against Root's, the contrast making Shaw feel light-headed. Root's skin was flawless, pale and rosy all at once. What would it look like under Shaw's? She wanted to see what her hand looked like spread over Root's ribcage, or what Root's legs would look like splayed beneath Shaw's hips.

"Sameen?" Root asked from above, her voice breathy and nervous. "What's wrong?"

"Don't, uh," Shaw's voice sounded raspy and strangled. She released Root's hands and stepped back, clearing her throat. "Don't take your stockings off. I'll just drive us to buy a new one."

Root clipped her garter back to the stockings and lowered her leg. "Drive us?"

"Yeah," Shaw said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. "My bike."

Her eyes widening, Root looked nervous. She slipped her foot back into her shoe and squatted down to buckle it. Shaw stuck her hands into her pockets.

"You don't have to come. Just tell me what to get. I'll go alone."

"No!" Root shot to her feet. "I want to come! Go put your shoes on!"

Shaw raised her eyebrows, surprised at Root's demanding tone. She nodded and turned around, walking quickly back to the house. Walking in the door, she dropped to the ground, picking up her boots from where she'd left them at the entrance and pulling out the socks she'd stuffed inside.

She'd thought Root was nervous about riding her motorcycle, but apparently, Shaw had mistaken excitement for nerves. It was surprising to find Root so excited about the motorcycle, but Shaw was glad. A lot of girls were scared of the bike; the speed and noise put them off.

She reminded herself that Root was hard to understand, that she kept surprising Shaw. Maybe Root wanted a little bit of danger, of excitement. This would just be a quick ride, 20 minutes roundtrip, but Shaw would see how Root did with this and then invite her out to try something wilder.

Tying her shoes quickly, Shaw shrugged her shoulders. Root probably wanted more than she could handle. A girl like that, who came from a small town and now worked an office job, would be overwhelmed by the ride. Shaw didn't want to think of this as a test, but it was.

Jumping to her feet, she grabbed her keys from the table by the door and hurried outside. She closed and locked the door and then turned to face the walkway. Root was already by the motorcycle, sitting side saddle on the seat, running a hand over the handlebars.

She looked good on the bike and Shaw felt a little bit of anticipation. Root didn't look nervous at all now that Shaw knew she was just excited. Shaw walked down the walkway and grinned.

"You wanna drive?" she joked.

Root jumped and smiled sheepishly, standing. "I was just looking. I've always wanted to ride a motorcycle."

"Yeah?" Shaw asked. She raised an eyebrow. "Then, today's your lucky day."

"I guess it is."

Shaw winked at Root and swung her leg over the seat. She scooted forward, pressing her hips into the front of the seat and leaving room behind her. She held a hand out for Root to take for balance.

Root took it, but dropped her hand. "My wallet! One minute."

She hurried into the house and Shaw sat back, relaxing. Separating the key from the others on the ring, Shaw pushed it into its slot on the dashboard in front of her. The motorcycle sputtered to life beneath her, rumbling and shaking between her legs.

She shifted her feet on the ground, keeping her balance. The neighborhood was quiet around her and she felt out of place. Her motorcycle was loud and always drew attention to her. She'd built it while working at an automechanic's for a year. He'd paid her and given her discounts on parts. She'd chosen to paint it a glossy, deep red like the original models.

Root hurried down the walkway towards her, smiling. "I'm ready!" she announced over the engine. "Let's go!"

For the second time, Shaw held her hand out for Root to take. She did, and used the other to lift her skirt over the back of the bike. Shaw let go of Root's hand and looked back to see Root rest her feet on the side bars of the bike.

Satisfied that she was settled, Shaw kicked the stand up and pressed the gas, heading out of their neighborhood. It was intimate to ride so close to someone else. Root's thighs were pressed alongside her own and Root's arms were wrapped around Shaw's waist.

They couldn't talk over the engine, so Root rested her chin on Shaw's shoulder. It was nice. Shaw clenched her jaw. She'd never wanted a steady relationship or to fall in love or any of that mushy, romantic stuff, but she had to admit that it was nice to feel surrounded by another person. Root's body around hers felt good.

Shaw picked up speed, racing down the road towards the Texaco. She wanted to be off the bike. Her plan to be friends with Root would work better if she didn't like the way Root's chest felt pressed against her back, or the way Root's fingers slipped under Shaw's t-shirt to brush against her stomach.

Shaw told herself it was an accident. The wind was blowing her shirt around and if Root was holding on to her, then her fingers had nowhere else to go. The Texaco loomed in front of them and Shaw started to slow. Root's fingers dug into her abs, nails scratching lightly. It was almost too tempting to pull over and ravish Root on the side of the road.

Shaw turned left, slowing further as they approached the gas station. It had a small autoshop attached to it and they'd sell fanbelts. Root's hands slid across Shaw's stomach and settled onto her hips. When Root leaned back, Shaw suddenly felt cold.

It didn't take them long to buy the new fanbelt and get back to their house. Root fixed the engine quickly and went into Reese's room to wash up. Shaw hovered awkwardly in the living room, unsure of what to do. They still had an hour or so until the picnic and she wasn't sure if she was allowed to disappear into her room until it was time.

Root walked out of Reese's room, smiling. "We could go to the picnic a little early," she said, heading for the kitchen. "I'm sure you don't want to stay out too long."

"I would like to avoid the most people," Shaw answered, following Root. "That would be preferable, yes."

Laughing, Root headed for the pantry door. Shaw moved back to the breakfast booth, hopping up onto the table. She watched Root pull out a picnic basket from the pantry and turn around. Root lifted it for Shaw to see.

"A present from John's mother," Root said. She walked to the counter and put it down. "She sends me a lot of gifts."

Shaw chuckled and nodded. "She's thoughtful. I should write her a letter."

"That reminds me," Root sighed, opening the fridge, "I need to respond to her last one. I'm so bad about it. "

"You two talk?" Shaw asked, surprised. "She never mentioned it."

Root rolled her eyes as she pulled bread and cheese out. "Sounds about right. I don't think she likes me very much. We rarely see her, but I try and stay on her good side." She put the food down on the counter and moved back to the fridge. "It just feels like she doesn't think I'm good enough."

"I don't mean to sound arrogant," Shaw said, placing a hand to her chest, "but I'm the only one who's good enough for Reese."

Root barked a laugh, pausing with one hand on the fridge door to look at Shaw. "You?"

Offended, Shaw crossed her arms. "You were just complaining about being judged, and here you are judging me."

Sticking her head back into the fridge, Root raised her voice so she could still be heard. "I'm not doubting your worthiness. I'm just not sure I could picture you as a wife."

"Yeah, me neither," Shaw snorted. "I think she just liked the way I made Reese relax. I don't think she knew too much about the gang stuff."

Root pulled out four bottles of Coca-Cola and shut the fridge door with her elbow. "How violent was your gang? Were you just young vandals, or did you actually...hurt people?"

Shaw sighed, kicking her legs. "Can you picture Reese knifing someone?"

Putting the glass bottles onto the counter, Root shook her head, smiling. "I can't. You know, I can't even picture him in his army uniform. I've seen him wear it, but it doesn't suit him."

"I wish I would have gone with him," Shaw said quietly. "He came back different."

Root started putting the bread and cheese into the picnic basket. "I'm sure. A lot of the men in my town fought in the first war. They were nice, but I saw a lot of them struggling."

Shaw kicked her legs again, watching Root pack their food away. Root looked thoughtful. Shaw wondered how willing she was to talk about her hometown or her past at all. Shaw had never really asked.

"Where are you from again?" Shaw asked. "Bishop?"

Root nodded, putting the soda into the basket and moving back to the pantry. "Yeah. The tiniest town in Texas."

"I'm guessing you didn't like it?"

"I did not," Root said, chuckling. She pulled a light blue picnic blanket from the pantry and shut the door. "Nothing to do. No one interesting. I got a full ride to Cornell and never looked back."

Shaw whistled. "You must be pretty smart."

"I am." Root grinned at her. "I really am."

Pretending to be put off, Shaw rolled her eyes. She knew that Root was a genius. Just the fact that she was working as a manager at a computer company told Shaw that she was smart. It was impressive, though, to get a full scholarship to a prestigious school like Cornell. Root put her blanket into the basket and turned to Shaw.

"Ready?"

"Yeah." Shaw hopped off the table and led the way to the front door again. "Tell me about how you met Reese," she said over her shoulder.

"We met at Mr. Finch's Christmas Party in '52. He was cute and I was shy."

Shaw jumped the two steps to the lower level and turned around to walk backwards. "Did he ask you out? I can't imagine he was bold enough."

Root smiled at her. "No, Mr. Finch pushed us together. I think he might have forced us to go to coffee together."

"I'd believe it."

Shaw stepped quickly to the front door and unlocked it. She pulled it open and moved aside so Root could pass. Root thanked her quietly and stepped out into the early-afternoon sunlight. Grabbing her keys off the hook on the wall, Shaw closed and locked the door behind her.

"How far is the park?" Shaw asked as they strolled down the walkway. "I could drive us?"

Root sighed. "Unfortunately, it's just a few houses down, on the other side of the street. Otherwise, I'd demand another ride."

Shaw smiled. They walked down the sidewalk in silence, absorbed in their own thoughts. Shaw's mind kept drifting back to Root when she was younger. How terrible it must have been to grow up in such a small town. Root must have worked really hard to get out.

She looked up at Root, the midday sun highlighting her features. This was the clearest Shaw had ever seen her and she was beautiful. Confidence radiated from her. Maybe Shaw could visit her at work one day, bring her lunch or something. It would be cool to see all the computers that Root ran.

Root looked both ways before leading Shaw across the street. Even though they were early to the picnic, Shaw could hear the sound of people. Beside her, Root took a deep breath, some of her confident energy fading away.

"Are you ok?" Shaw asked, reaching out to lay a hand on Root's arm.

Root nodded, smiling tightly. "Yeah, I just… Public gatherings aren't really my thing. I'm not really a wife-type."

Raising an eyebrow, Shaw let that slide. "We don't have to go."

"No, I want to spend time with you." Root sighed. She steeled herself. "Let's go."

"Into battle!" Shaw joked, pleased when Root chuckled a little bit.

They walked between two houses and Root teetered a bit, her heels making her unsteady on the grass. Shaw offered her arm and Root took it, hand clasping the inside of Shaw's elbow to steady herself. Her hand was a little clammy on Shaw's arm and she realized how nervous Root really was.

"Is anyone you know gonna be there?"

"I don't think so," Root answered. "Grace might be here. She and Mr. Finch usually come together, but he and John are off. It would just be Grace and- " Root's voice caught in her throat and her face turned a bright red. She stopped walking. "I didn't think about it before, but Matthew Reed will probably be here."

Shaw just shrugged. "I don't care. I'm sure he'll be cool. Do you care?"

"No," Root said, obviously lying. "It's fine."

"Look," Shaw sighed, turning Root to face her, "if it's too uncomfortable for you, we can go. I'm not going to be weird about it and I doubt he will be, so if you're worried about a public scandal, then don't. If it's because you saw his penis-"

Root choked loudly.

"-then...It's the penis, isn't it?"

Shaking her head dramatically, Root squeezed Shaw's arm. "It's fine. I'm fine. I've seen penises, well, I've seen one penis, but it's not even that. It's just I know what he looks like when he- you know. At the end. I'm just going to picture it when I see him."

Wincing, Shaw turned Root to face her. "Take some deep breaths."

"Ok," Root squeaked. She sucked in air, slowly calming down. The red in her cheeks started to lessen. "Thanks."

"How about this," Shaw suggested, "when you start thinking about Matthew's...Matthew naked, just think about someone else. Think about Reese."

Root smiled weakly. "Yeah, that might help."

Smirking, Shaw winked at her. "You could picture me, instead, if that helps."

"It doesn't," Root joked, the blush returning. "I think it makes it worse."

"Well, I'm just offering." Shaw eyed Root warily, worried about her blood pressure. "I'm gonna ask one more time. Do you want to just go home?"

Taking one last deep breath, Root shook her head, smiling. "No. I want to go to the picnic with you. We are going to go, we are going to have fun, and then we are going to go home. It's going to be great."

"Hell yeah," Shaw replied. She grinned at Root. "Is there beer at this thing?"

Root just laughed and started walking again, clutching Shaw's arm and leading her to the picnic. They emerged from between the houses and strolled into the park. It was pretty large, a wide flat field of green grass. Shaw wondered how many years it would be until the park was replaced by more houses.

Tents and tables had been set up at one end of the park and the smell of barbecue filled the air. Immediately, Shaw's mouth watered. The tents were set up in orderly lines, and Shaw could count at least fifteen booths set up. It looked like all of them were selling food and drinks. It looked like heaven.

Root started to lead her to the other side of the park, where people had set out picnic blankets. Shaw started to protest, but Root cut her off.

"We're just putting our stuff down and claiming a spot. You'll get your beer in a minute. Have some patience."

"Fine," Shaw sighed. She reached around Root to take the basket. "But I want beer and a cheeseburger."

"You can have three cheeseburgers," Root replied, throwing Shaw's words back at her. "Hell, four cheeseburgers. On me."

Shaw rolled her eyes, stopping beside Root on an empty patch of field. "Big spender. Just trying to show me up."

Root winked at her, then blushed. "Now I'm self-conscious."

"Don't be. It's cute."

They set up their spot quickly, stretching out Root's red and white checked blanket. It took a minute for Root to convince Shaw that it was safe to leave their basket unattended. When they walked away, Shaw still wasn't sure no one would take it, but if they lost it, she'd just make Root actually buy her food.

They wandered through the tents, seeing what was being sold. It was nice to walk around with Root, commenting on their options and the people around them. It felt easy. Several times, Shaw made Root laugh and every time, she immediately wanted to do it again.

Eventually, they made it to the last tent and found the only booth selling beer. Shaw stopped in front of it, ready to buy herself a drink. When the man asked her how many cans she wanted, Shaw grinned.

"Two," she said, raising the requisite number of fingers. "One for me, and one for the lady."

"Me?" Root asked, looking surprised. "I'm not really a beer drinker."

Shaw shrugged. "Today, you are."

"Listen to your boyfriend," the man behind the table said as he reached into a cooler next to him and pulled out two cans of Bud. "It's good for you."

Shaw reached into her back pocket for her wallet and pulled out a dollar. "Yeah, Root. Listen to your boyfriend."

Root just squinted at her, amused. Shaw traded the man the dollar for the beers and told him to keep the change. They turned and headed back towards the food tents. Shaw held a can in each hand and popped the top with her pointer finger. She handed a can to Root.

"Now, who's dextrous?" Root said, smiling. She held the can up to her nose and sniffed delicately. "Opening a can with one finger." She took a sip of beer.

"You should see what I can do with two."

Shaw watched Root sputter and hold a hand up to her chin to keep beer from spilling onto her dress. Root glared at Shaw.

"You've got a dirty mind," Shaw joked. "Sexy images, turning everything I say into a sex joke…"

"I'm not the one doing dirty things," Root shot back. She wiped her chin delicately. "I'm just trying to be friends with you."

Shaw let the subject drop. Root wasn't used to foul language or sex jokes. She'd get used to it though. Maybe Shaw would bring her to the Black Cherry sometimes and broaden her horizons.

"We are friends, right?" Root asked. She took a sip of her beer. "I don't want to put any pressure on you, but I'd like to be friends."

"Sure." Shaw shrugged. "We're friends. I should probably be friends with my best friend's girl."

If she knew more about emotions, Shaw would think Root looked disappointed. It was the same look she'd had when Reese had told her he didn't consider her when he invited Shaw to live with him. It made Shaw's stomach turn and she drank instead of thinking about it.

They walked past a hot dog stand and Shaw slowed. "You want a hot dog?" she asked Root. "Or do you really want a cheeseburger?"

Root shrugged, seeming a little bit down. "Whatever you want."

"Oh my god," Shaw muttered. She rubbed her free hand over her eyes. "We're friends, Root. Without Reese. I'm glad we're spending time together."

Perking up, Root grinned. "Yeah?"

"Yes." Shaw rolled her eyes and turned her back to Root. She gestured at the food on the table in front of them. "Two hot dogs. Chili and cheese on one. What do you want?"

Root stepped forward to look over Shaw's shoulder. Her chest pressed against Shaw's back and Shaw stiffened. Root's body affected her more than she was willing to admit.

Shaw wanted to know if she was really as shy as she seemed. Was it just an act? Was her delicacy something she'd acquired while dating Reese? Shaw could see a wildness in Root's eyes sometimes and she was willing to bet Root just needed permission to let go.

"I'll take cheese and ketchup, please."

Shaw stepped aside, moving out of Root's gravitational field, and started to get her wallet. Root rested her hand on Shaw's shoulder and put a dollar onto the table.

"This one's on me."

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Root hesitated outside of Shaw's bedroom, her fist raised to knock. They'd gotten back from the picnic a few hours ago and gone their separate ways. Sameen had needed some time alone and, honestly, Root had needed the time, too.

The picnic had been wonderful. She was glad to spend the time with Sameen and it had been nice to sit out in warm, spring air. Sameen had managed to eat three hotdogs and two cheeseburgers before calling it quits. It had been impressive to watch.

The whole day had been lovely. Root had to admit that she was glad she decided to come back to the house. Zoe was right. Being friends with Sameen was enough. Root could be close to her, but keep her feelings to herself. Sameen wasn't mysterious anymore; she was just an interesting woman that Root wanted to be close to.

Root sighed and finally knocked on the door. She'd changed into John's pajamas, so she'd have some mobility, rolling the pants up to her knees. They were comfortable and she had to admit, she saw why Sameen wore men's clothing. The door opened.

Sameen stood on the other side, eyebrow raised. When she saw that it was Root, she stepped backwards, letting Root in and looking her over. She was wearing something similar.

"Wow," Sameen said, shaking her head, "you can make anything look good."

Blushing, Root just shrugged and sat on Sameen's unmade bed. "You've only seen me in dresses and this. I could look terrible in swimsuits."

Sameen snorted. "I doubt it."

Pushing her hair behind her ear, Root hid her delight at the compliment. She watched Sameen walk back to her desk and sit in the chair. She leaned back on her hands, trying to ignore the fact that she was sitting on the bed where Sameen had laid naked a week before.

Sameen's room looked much different than when Root had decorated it before she came. Sameen had replaced the white linen curtains with thicker, royal blue curtains. The lilac bedspread had been replaced with sheets of the same color. Root actually couldn't even remember if these were the same sheets she'd seen Sameen on. They hadn't stuck with her.

The room was also messier than Root expected. Clothing was strewn around haphazardly. Root did laundry once a week, but Sameen and John usually left their baskets by the washer. She was glad of that now more than ever. Coming into this room and trying to sort clothing would be a nightmare.

Root turned her attention back to Sameen and caught her staring down at Root's calves. Smiling, Root lifted a leg, making Sameen's eyes snap up to her face.

"You've got a thing for legs, don't you?" Root teased. "Grabbing my stockings early and staring at my bare legs now."

Sameen rolled her eyes. "I'm just surprised you don't sleep in them."

"I'm a lady. Not a lunatic."

"That remains to be seen," Sameen joked. She gestured to Root's whole body. "Did you come in with a purpose? Or to show off your lady-like legs?"

"I wanted to see if you would be interested in watching the fireworks."

Sameen sighed dramatically, draping an arm over the back of her chair. "Would I have to get dressed again? If your answer is 'yes,' my answer is 'no'."

"No need for clothing," Root answered. The tips of Sameen's ears turned pink. "We can see them from the roof."

Sameen straightened up. "You mean you want to sit on the roof?"

"Yeah." She sat forward. "Are you interested?"

Instead of replying, Sameen hurried to her window and unlocked it. She pushed it up as high as it would go and turned back to Root.

"Well, come on."

Laughing, Root jumped off the bed and walked around it to the window. Sameen climbed out first, carefully stepping out onto the ledge that stretched over the porch. She turned around to offer Root a hand.

Root took it, the feel of Sameen's hand in her own comforting and pleasant. She lifted her foot onto the windowsill and lifted herself up and out of the window. Stumbling slightly, Sameen's hands caught her waist, helping to keep her upright.

Root stared down into Sameen's deep, dark eyes and drew a short breath. They were just friends, Root told herself. Intimacy was important and necessary and not always sexual, she also told herself. She didn't like women, or Sameen, in any particular way.

It was Sameen who broke the spell, moving away from her. Root trailed after her, following as she climbed up to the top of the roof. Shaw settled on the highest point and Root sat beside her.

The normal silence of the neighborhood was broken by the sound coming from the park. From this height, they could see the picnic, and the people dancing and sitting on their blankets. Even removed like this, Root didn't feel like an outcast. She had a friend with her and she was where she wanted to be.

"When do the fireworks start?" Sameen asked quietly.

Before Root could answer, the first firework streaked into the sky and exploded. It lit up the neighborhood, casting gold and red light over the houses. Root pulled her knees up in front of her and wrapped her arms around her legs.

"Thank you for spending time with me today," Root said. "I had a good time."

"Me too," Sameen answered. "A nice change of pace."

Without anything else to say, Root just stared up at the sky and the fireworks. She felt young again, staring at the sky from a roof and wondering what the weight in her chest was. It had disappeared for a while when she'd been at Cornell and started working with computers, but it had come back recently.

It was strange. She felt it more than ever when she was with Sameen, but at the same time, she felt light and free. It was so confusing, to want so much and to want to want nothing. She laid her chin on her knees.

"Are we still on for a movie tomorrow?" Sameen asked her. "Or was this in place of that?"

Root let her head drop to the side, so she could look at Sameen through her eyelashes. "You want to spend another day with me?"

Sameen looked at her, face hidden in the dark. "It's not the worst way to spend my time." A firework lit them and she could see Sameen's blank expression. Her face faded back into darkness. "We're friends."

It made Root happy to hear that, but the weight in her chest felt heavier, too. She smiled tightly, breathing out through her nose.

"Yeah," she sighed. "We are."


	9. Invasion of the Body-Snatchers

Root looked in the mirror that hung on the wall above the small table in the entryway. She was excited to go to the movies with Sameen, their first girls' night to not be commandeered by someone else. Technically, the day before had been a whole girls' day, but this was different.

She felt giddy, like the way dates with John used to feel before they'd gotten used to each other. Root told herself that this wasn't a date. It couldn't be because she was in a relationship and she and Sameen were just friends anyway. Having a best friend was exciting in itself and she chalked up the butterflies in her stomach to that.

Fluffing her hair one last time, Root picked up her purse. "We'll be back later," Root said to John, moving to the side so she could see him. "Are you going out with Mr. Finch?"

John shook his head, settling into the couch. "No. He's talking Grace out tonight. I'll just stay here."

Root hesitated in the entryway, one hand on the door. The right thing to do would be to invite John to the movies. She knew that. A big part of her wanted to be selfish, though, and keep Sameen all to herself.

The thought of a date with John didn't make her as happy as it should. Root had been looking forward to riding on the back of Sameen's motorcycle again and spending more time one-on-one. If John was around, though, she should probably take the chance to hang out with him.

"Do you want to come?" Root asked. She tugged on her gloves. "To the movies?"

John shook his head. "No, have your girls' night."

Root sighed. "John, it's fine," she said, the lie heavy in her mouth. "Come with us while you're free."

"I'm exhausted, Root." He crossed one leg over the other and gestured to the television. "I just want to stay home and catch Milton Berle."

"Well…" Root wasn't sure what to say. Shaw was waiting outside for her and the movie started soon. "Do… you want me to stay?"

She was hoping that John would say no and she'd be free to go. The butterflies in her stomach were starting to slow and she was worried that John would take away her date. She reminded herself that she wasn't dating Shaw, she was dating John. She should want to spend time with him. She started to pull her gloves off.

"No," John said again. "I know this is the first time in a while that I've been free, but… I just need some time alone. We'll spend tomorrow night together, I promise."

Root nodded, feeling relieved and upset at the same time. Spending time with John is what Zoe would tell her to do. It would help her remember why she liked him, loved him, and why she was more interested in him than she was in Sameen.

She didn't want to be reminded right now. She wanted to cling to Sameen's strong body and see a horror film and eat cheeseburgers. They'd had so much fun together the day before at the picnic. Root's theory had been wrong. Learning more about Sameen had only made her more interesting and now Root needed to spend more time with her.

She was probably thinking about Sameen so much because her relationship with John was a little rocky. They weren't together often and Sameen was there all the time. Root was sure that when John's case ended, things would go back to normal.

"Ok, well..." Root shrugged. "I'll see you later."

"Have a good time."

She looked at him for a moment longer, his attention already drifting to the television, and turned away. Taking her keys from the table, she opened the front door and walked out. Immediately, she smiled.

At the end of the walkway was Sameen, straddling the bicycle and leaning over the handlebar, a helmet in each hand. The weather had gotten warmer and Root was thankful because Sameen was wearing a tank top, her arms totally bare in the setting sun. Root closed the door quickly and started towards her.

Hearing Root's heels, Sameen looked up. She sat back on the bike and held out a helmet.

"We're going farther this time," she said. "You have to wear a helmet."

Root pouted as she got closer. "But I did my hair." She took the helmet with one hand, replacing it in Sameen's hand in her purse. "At least tell me I look nice before I ruin all my hard work."

Sameen rolled her eyes, opening a small compartment on the dashboard of her bike. She dropped Root's small pocketbook in and closed it again. Lifting her own helmet over her head, she gave Root a long look.

"You look good."

Root grinned, watching Sameen put her helmet on. She quickly put her own over her head when Sameen held out a hand. Like the last time, Root let herself be guided to the bike and swung her leg over.

Normally, on a date night like this, Root would be wearing something tighter, but she knew she'd have to straddle this bike and so she'd worn something with a flowing skirt. Besides, she reminded herself as she adjusted her skirt, this wasn't a date. Root lifted her feet onto the bars on either side of the bike and wrapped her arms around Sameen's stomach.

Sameen lifted the kickstand with her foot and started the motorcycle. It roared to life between their legs and Root shivered. She'd been right to think that just sitting on the bike while the engine ran was an experience. The vibrations raced through her and made her feel like she was growling.

Being so close to Sameen warmed her, too, and as they pulled away from the curb and raced down the street, Root felt a little wild. The setting sun was blinding and she lowered the front of her helmet onto Sameen's shoulder. She shifted her arms as they turned out of the neighborhood, splaying her hands on Sameen's stomach.

The last time they'd gone for a ride, Root had caved in to her imagination and pressed her hands to Sameen's stomach, letting her fingers drag over smooth, firm skin. Now, Sameen was dressed differently, her jeans belted at her waist and her tank top tucked in. Root mourned the loss of skin contact, but she satisfied herself with just feeling the outline of abs through the cotton fabric.

The wind whipped at their clothing and provided some relief from the warming summer air. Root was looking forward to a hot summer. She loved swimming and picnicking and this would be the first year she'd have someone other than John to go out with.

She pulled herself away from the broad shoulders she was pressed against and used her grip on Sameen's hips to anchor herself. Tilting her head back, Root looked up at the sunset sky through the scratched plastic visor on her helmet. It felt dramatic to think of herself as racing towards a future while she was riding on a motorcycle, but Root did feel like that. Something was changing and it scared and thrilled her at the same time.

They reached the movie theater quicker than Root would have liked, but that was alright. There was always the ride back. Sameen slowly wove her way through the parking lot to find an empty spot.

Rolling to a stop in a spot close to the entrance, Shaw dropped her foot to the ground and turned the motor off. Root felt the silence and missed the noisy engine almost immediately. When she pulled off her helmet, she was glad that the chatter of people filled her ears.

She'd never really liked quiet and she was always surrounded by it at John's house. Her apartment was never quiet; the noise from the street below came in through the cracked windows and she'd play records almost constantly. John's neighborhood was too silent.

In front of her, Sameen pulled her helmet off, too. She looked over her shoulder at Root and nodded.

"Your hair still looks good."

Root blushed. She'd forgotten to be worried about her hair. Handing Sameen her helmet, she smiled.

"Thank you."

Sameen shrugged. "I don't care. It's you who were worried. I think you'd look fine covered in mud."

Laughing, Root gathered her skirt in her hands and carefully lifted her leg over the seat. "I can assure you that I wouldn't. I'm not nearly rugged enough." She smoothed her dress down and looked Sameen over, taking in muscular arms and messy hair. "I think you could pull it off, though. You'd look properly rugged and handsome."

Sameen looked away, fighting to keep a smile off her face. "I always look handsome."

"You do."

Root took a deep breath and turned her back on Sameen to face the theater. Sameen's handsomeness was part of the problem. She was so capable and gentlemanly, things Root found very attractive. She'd never thought about Zoe or any of the secretaries in her office that way. It was Sameen's short hair and masculine clothing that caught her eye.

Not for the first time, Root wondered if it was just Sameen's mystery that made Root think about her so often. The fact that she was new to their home and Root's life. She'd never met anyone like her before and it was exciting and thrilling and frightening all at once.

Sameen appeared beside her, elbow extended. "Shall we?"

"Where are the helmets?" Root asked, wrapping her hand around Sameen's bicep, a shiver passing through her.

"Locked them to the bike." Sameen nodded over her shoulder. "They'll be fine. We, however, are running late."

She started walking, pulling Root along. Root followed willingly, taking shorter steps to stay in line with Sameen. She felt tenser than she had in a long time. Her hand was resting on Sameen's bicep as lightly as possible, as if the layer of air molecules would make her care less about the thin sheen of sweat on smooth skin. Maybe if she just didn't fully touch, she could keep herself from squeezing the thick muscle.

"So," Root breathed, distracting herself, "are you excited? 'Invasion of the Body Snatchers'."

Sameen shrugged, her arm bumping against Root's palm as she moved it. "I'm optimistic. I'm not sure about 'excited.'"

"I'll take it!" Root laughed. She rested her hand fully on Sameen's arm, wondering if she imagined the slight ripple of muscle beneath it. "I'll buy the tickets this time."

"No," Sameen said firmly. She stopped them at the back of the line for tickets. "A lady never pays."

Root blushed even though she was sure John had said something similar to her before. It was different with Sameen like so many other things were. Root wanted to ask 'if I'm a lady, then what are you?' Instead, she just smiled.

"I think that means we both get in for free."

Sameen smirked up at her, already pulling out her wallet. "I'll distract them and you make a run for it?"

"Count to three?"

They both laughed, moving forward in the line. It was a nice night already. Root was more relaxed than she had been in weeks, even as she felt nervous being so close to Sameen. She wondered if she should drop her arm now that they were so close to the theater, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

Instead, she just gave Sameen's arm a light squeeze, grinning to make it seem like part of the joke. Their eyes met and she swore there was something in the dark depths that was different. Sameen's eyes pulled at Root's chest, made her heart beat faster, and drew her in. Root blinked and looked away.

The couple in front of them walked away from the ticket booth and Root and Sameen stepped forward. Sameen slid a dollar under the glass divider.

"Two tickets for Invasion of the Body Snatchers."

The teenage boy inside the glass nodded, glancing between them. "One dollar."

He quickly put the dollar into his register and picked up his wheel of tickets. There was something about his manner that seemed odd to Root, but she couldn't place her finger on it. When he tore off two tickets and slid it back under the glass, he looked between them again, cheeks pink.

"Hey," the boy said, leaning to the small hole in the glass, "are you-"

"Alright," Sameen bit, pulling her arm away from Root's. "We're done."

She snatched the tickets from the boy's hand and walked away, leaving Root to catch up. Sameen yanked the door to the lobby open and Root thought she wasn't going to stop, but she did. She moved aside to let Root pass, gesturing quickly with her free hand.

Root stepped inside, wondering what had happened and why Sameen suddenly looked so sour. The boy hadn't even asked his question, whatever it would have been. Root slowed as she got to the center of the lobby, turning to see Sameen standing next to her, frowning.

"What happened?"

Sameen shook her head. "Nothing."

"Come on," Root said, reaching out to put her hands on Sameen's shoulders. "We're friends. You can tell me if something upset you."

Shrugging off Root's hands, Sameen sniffed loudly, looking away and crossing her arms. "I don't mind when people mistake me for a boy. Being seen as a woman is usually worse."

"Worse?" Root asked. "It's worse to be seen as what you are?"

"I should have worn an overshirt." Sameen laughed humorlessly, her eyes fluttering. "It's complicated. I don't think you'd understand."

"I'm a smart cookie," Root joked. "Try me."

Looking around the lobby, Sameen offered her arm again. Root took it quickly, letting Sameen lead her to the side of the lobby. They sat on a bench beside a paper mache model of a pod. It was from the movie they were going to see and Root thought she'd care more about it after they saw the film.

"Look," Sameen said, sighing, "there are respectable people and non-respectable people. I..am not respectable."

Root smiled. "What does that mean? Are you a criminal?"

"No." Sameen pushed a hand through her hair. She waited for a couple to pass by their seat and leaned into Root. "I'm a dyke. Sometimes. Mostly. I'm an on-and-off dyke."

"I'm not sure what a dyke is," Root admitted. She felt like she was missing the point of all of this. Then, she remembered her conversation with Zoe, and the reason she was supposed to be ignoring her feelings. "Oh. I think I know. I didn't realize it had a name."

Sameen closed her eyes, looking like she was praying for patience. "Yeah. It does. That one is for women. I wouldn't normally use it in public."

"I'm sorry," Root apologized. She took Sameen's hand in her own. "I know that your feelings are forbidden and I'm sorry that you have to hide."

"'Forbidden'?" She didn't take her hand away, but Sameen leaned away, looking at Root with sharp eyes. "I'm not ashamed of myself, Root. My feelings are natural. There are plenty of women, not just in New York, but everywhere, who love other women. Just like me. Just like…" Sameen shook her head. "Look, it doesn't matter. I just didn't want that guy to say anything in front of you."

Root smiled softly. "I'm glad I got it from you, instead."

Sameen opened her mouth, but hesitated. She looked almost nervous, something Root hadn't thought possible. Her own mind was whirring and it took all of her self-control to keep the small smile on her face. She looked away at the people milling around the lobby. Beside her, Sameen took a deep breath.

"You don't think less of me, do you?" Sameen clicked her tongue and looked away, too. "Whatever. I don't care. Think what you want."

Root squeezed Sameen's hand, getting a quick squeeze back. They looked at each other again. "Of course, I don't think less of you. You don't have to care, but I don't think less. I admire your freedom, Sameen. I'm jealous."

"Jealous of my perpetual outcast status?" Sameen shot back, a challenging eyebrow raised. "It's easy to be sympathetic. It all seems wonderful from the outside looking in, but it's nothing special when you're the one who's different. It's just hard. I'm just trying to live my best life."

"I am sympathetic," Root said. "It's not a lot, but I think it's the only thing I can give you right now. I hope that with time, I can give you more, but that's all I have now."

Sameen sighed and nodded. "I know. Sorry. I shouldn't snap at you."

"It's alright," Root shrugged. "I'll still let you sit next to me in the theater."

Barking a laugh, Sameen climbed to her feet. "Thank you for that honor." She used the hand she was holding to pull Root up. "Let's get a seat before the movie starts. I think we only have a minute."

Sameen dropped her hand and started for the man taking tickets. Root followed her feeling a little bit unsteady on her feet. Zoe had told her that Sameen liked women, that there was a whole bar dedicated to people who were attracted to the same gender, but it felt different to hear it from Sameen herself.

It felt tangible, like Root could just grab Sameen and kiss her and the world wouldn't go up in smoke. There were women all over the world who felt the same way Root did, had the same yearning that Root did, and they survived. They thrived.

Root wanted that. She wanted to be happy, live to her fullest potential, really know what it felt like to be happy. Staring at Sameen's back as they walked to their theater, Root just wanted to know the truth. She could deal with a hard life, she already had been. It would be worth it if it meant she could be free.

Sameen opened the door to their theater and Root smiled at her as she walked in. The theater was large and most of the chairs were taken. They should have gotten in earlier, but their conversation had taken up a lot of time. She waited at the base of the steps for Sameen.

"I see two seats toward the back," Sameen said, pointing. "Let's grab them before we're walking over people in the dark."

They found their seats quickly and settled in. Root had wanted to buy popcorn, but it was too late now. They could go to the diner afterwards for food. Although, really, Root's stomach was churning too much to be hungry.

She sat back in her seat as the heavy red curtains pulled aside to reveal the movie screen. Putting her arm on the armrest beside her, Root froze. She and Sameen both had their arms down, bare skin brushing together.

The pre-movie animation started, but Root couldn't focus on it at all. It felt like her entire world had narrowed down the place where they were touching. Sameen's arm was warm, soft skin and hard muscle sending thrills through Root's body.

She'd sat close to Sameen before, they had just been holding hands briefly, but now the arm that had been giving her butterflies was flush to her own and it felt indecent. The lights around them dimmed as the movie started and Root was grateful for the darkness. She was sure her face was beet red.

She wondered if she could get away with holding Sameen's hand again. Friends held hands. It was an innocent enough form of intimacy and Sameen didn't have to know that Root felt anymore than friendship. Sameen shifted as the man on screen begged the doctors to listen, and Root grew lightheaded as she felt Shaw's muscles moving against her.

Root couldn't decide if she wanted to grab Sameen's muscles or if she wanted Sameen to grab her. Either way, Root imagined that being pressed against Sameen would feel like heaven. It would be hot and passionate and wonderful. She tried to focus on the movie.

Maybe it was knowing for a fact that Sameen had slept with women that was making her think this way. Until now her thoughts had been fairly pure and the most she'd thought about was kissing. And replacing Matthew. Now, the image of Sameen naked in bed, sweaty from sex, had returned, all the work she'd done to banish it rendered useless.

Beside her, Sameen's arm disappeared. Root felt the loss immediately, suddenly cold. Would it be bad to ask Sameen to put it back? Would that give her away? Her thoughts stopped when Sameen's arm came to rest across her shoulders.

It felt safe. Root wanted to curl up against Sameen and wrap her own arm across Sameen's stomach. She wanted to be as close as possible, soak up all the warm that she knew Sameen had inside of her. Instead, for the first time in a while, Root really thought about John.

They had sat just like this so many times, his arm around her shoulders, but it had never felt like this. Root couldn't think of a single second of their relationship that made her heart race and her body hot like this one night had. She tried to think about their conversations and tell herself that she loved his mind and his personality, but she'd learned more about him from Sameen than she'd learned the whole three and a half years they'd been together.

It was easier to talk to Sameen, easier to want to be around her. Root found her fascinating. The things she'd done and the way she saw the world. She felt like Sameen wanted to be around her, spend time with her, understand her. It usually felt like John didn't see her at all.

Root wasn't upset with him. There was probably someone in the world that would pique his interest more and be what he wanted. That person wasn't Root. She was really starting to think that it was never going to be her and no amount of wishing was going to turn her into the woman she'd been pretending to be.

Drawing in a deep breath, Root realized she was crying and quickly wiped her eyes, glad for the darkness. Around her, people were jumping at the screen, the movie scaring them. Root couldn't be bothered to even appear to be watching the film. Her heart was in her throat and she wished it would be easy to leave the theater.

The reason for her nervousness, and all of her emotion, was right in front of her, but it felt like a puzzle she couldn't bring herself to solve. What would happen when she said it? What would happen when she admitted to herself that she would never love a man the way she knew she could love a woman? If she said it, even just in her own head, that would be the end. She would never be able to go back.

Root knew she didn't have to say it to make it real. She'd been racing towards her conclusion since she'd first laid eyes on Sameen's shoulders that day in John's kitchen. The first time her eyes had met Sameen's, something had changed within her, and she'd started down this path. What was she supposed to do now that she was at the end?

Sameen leaned down and brushed her lips against Root's ear. "You ok?"

"Yeah," Root breathed, smiling into the darkness. "I'm great."

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Root walked into the house, smiling, and closed the door behind her. "Maybe your stomach is upset because you ate too much." She dropped her purse onto the table in the entryway and stepped out of her shoes. "That would do it."

"I'm fine," Sameen bit out, putting her hands on her hips. "It's not my first time eating that many burgers. Or milkshakes."

"I'm just saying," Root laughed, squatting down delicately to place her shoes together to the side, "you're not a teenager anymore. You might have to slow down."

Sameen squinted at her. "You calling me old?"

Root stood and pressed a hand to her chest, feigning innocence. "Old? No! I would never."

"Sure."

Taking her gloves off, Root sighed. "John's probably asleep."

Sameen started for the staircase, rubbing her hands through her hair. "Yeah. He goes to bed really early." She gave Root a tight smile and pulled the door open. "I'm actually really tired, too."

"Oh, yeah, me too." Root gripped her gloves in her hands and took a couple steps toward Sameen. "I think I'm going to come upstairs with you."

Raising an eyebrow, Sameen propped her hip against the door frame. "I don't put out on the first date, you know."

Root gasped, realizing the implication of her statement. "Not like that! Not 'with you.' Just- I mean-"

"Relax," Shaw snorted. She pushed herself off the doorframe and started up the stairs. "I was joking."

Following quickly, Root stepped into the stairwell and shut the door behind herself. Sameen was already halfway up the staircase and Root watched the way her hips moved as she climbed. Swallowing hard, Root headed up after her.

The last time Root had climbed these stairs, she'd almost climbed into bed with Sameen and now she knew that if Sameen had asked her, she would have. She wasn't sure what to say to Sameen's joke. Root didn't want to just throw herself at the other woman, but how long was she supposed to wait before she said something? She didn't know the protocol.

They reached the top of the stairs and started down the hall. Sameen turned around to walk backwards.

"I didn't mean to be weird," she said, wincing, "about the...sex on the first date."

"Oh. It wasn't. Weird."

"I know that not everyone is comfortable with homosexuality," Sameen went on. "I don't want it to be uncomfortable between us. I mean, we live together and you're with my best friend, so…"

"Yeah," Root breathed. She stopped in front of the guest room door. "It's fine. I'm not uncomfortable. I don't care."

Sameen turned away, putting a hand on her door handle. Root started opening her own door, but Sameen's voice stopped her from going away.

"Root."

Root looked over her shoulder. Sameen's face was blank and Root recognized the look. It was the same careful mask she put on around Mr. Finch and Grace. And John. She hated that it was aimed at her now.

"Yes?" she asked, hand tightening around her door knob. "Sameen?"

"I don't get along with people. I don't understand them and I don't care about them. I want us to be friends. I want you to know that, if you need to, you can talk to me. I want you to feel like you can trust me."

Root wasn't sure how to answer. She did trust Sameen, and she wished she could talk to her, but what would she say? 'I crave your touch constantly and I think I could fall in love with you.' Root smiled.

"Thank you, Sameen," she said quietly. "If something comes up, I'll reach out."

Sameen nodded, her face still giving nothing away. "Ok."

She opened her door and disappeared inside. Sighing, Root pushed her way into the guest room, closing the door behind her. The night had been amazing and Root didn't want it to end, but it had. Now, she stood alone in the guest bedroom, not ready to go to sleep.

Root was exhausted from keeping herself together all night, but her body was still humming with nerves and the excitement of understanding. It felt like she was buzzing inside of her skin. She'd been shivering for hours, small touches with Sameen keeping her on edge.

Sighing, Root tossed her gloves onto the bed. Undressing was her favorite and least favorite part of the night. She wore so many layers that unwrapping herself was a chore, but when her clothing was all gone, she felt like she could breathe.

She started to unbuckle the thin belt looped around her skirt. It didn't do much in terms of keeping her outfit in place, but it was cute. She pulled the belt free, the hiss of leather against thick cotton filling the silent room. Root tossed it onto the floor, not worried about neatness.

Moving her hands to her skirt, Root unbuttoned it, pulling down the zipper and letting it fall to the ground. It settled in a pool at her feet and a moment later, her petticoat landed on top of it. Root wished that someone else was doing this, that Sameen's strong, precise fingers were undressing her.

She licked her lips and slid her hands up the front of her hips to her stomach, skin brushing against the satin and lace of her girdle, garter and long-line bra. There wasn't an inch of bare skin from the top of her breasts to the top of her thighs and she suddenly needed to feel it.

Quickening her pace, Root pulled her blouse over her head and tossed it aside. She wondered if Sameen could rip it open. Would she send the false buttons flying across the room? Root bet that Sameen was as impatient as she was.

Putting one foot on the bed, Root unclipped her stocking, rolling it down her leg. She remembered how Sameen had helped her take them off in the street, then stopped her two weeks later. Root switched her legs and imagined that Sameen was taking this stocking off.

Sameen would kiss her way down the inside of Root's thigh, taking her time to lower the silk and reveal inch by inch of Root's long legs. She dragged her own nails down her leg as she pushed the stocking down, a shiver racing down her spine. When it was off, she threw it aside and moved on.

She reached behind herself to use dexterous fingers to undo the hooks that kept her garter belt tight against her. Closing her eyes, she smiled, imagining Sameen getting frustrated with the small fasteners. Root undid the last hook and let the garter fall off her body.

Her girdle had a zipper on the side and Root pulled it down quickly, tugging on the tight nylon. It came off and Root left it on the growing pile of clothing at her feet. She took a deep breath, stomach released from the tight compression.

Her bra was next. Root wore longer bras, the boning like a small corset around her ribs. She was thin enough to not need so much support, but a woman at the store had convinced her that it was for the best. Now, she pictured Sameen's hands wrapping around her small waist, sliding over the stiff boning, to the clasps at the back.

With expert fingers, Root opened her bra and dropped it. Standing only in her underwear, Root pressed cold hands to her stomach the feeling of skin on skin enhancing the feeling of an electric buzz inside of her. She realized that she was panting, her shaking body desperate to feel more.

She pushed her underwear off and put a knee on the bed, ready to let herself fall into fantasy. Before she crawled forward, Root looked back at her closed door. Sameen was in bed for the night and probably wouldn't leave her room again, but something tugged at Root's stomach.

Reaching for the doorknob, Root turned it slowly, quietly, and pulled her door open an inch. Peeking out, she saw that Sameen's door was closed, but light was spilling out into the dark hallway from underneath. Running a hand down her stomach, Root opened her door fully.

She couldn't ask Sameen to touch her, couldn't invite her into bed, but Root wanted to return the favor and leave the door open. Turning the lights off, she hurried onto the bed and laid on her back, still shivering with excitement. She closed her eyes.

The image of Sameen that had been haunting her appeared instantly. Root ran her hands over her chest, trembling fingers brushing over warm skin. It was easy to pretend that her hands were Sameen's and that she was not alone in the room.

Root relaxed and let herself feel what she'd been hiding inside. Her hand drifted down between her legs to where she was aching for Sameen's touch. She wanted to move slowly, savor the feeling of her new freedom, but her pent up desire was already threatening to spill out.

Her fingers moved quickly, and Root pressed her other hand over her eyes. She could see Sameen above her, holding herself up with toned arms, black eyes staring down, wide and wild. Root moaned, imagining fervent, desperate kisses.

She moved her fingers down, pushing them inside herself and groaning. Sucking in short, quick breaths, Root thought about Sameen. She thought about the way Sameen's stomach felt under her hands when they drove through the neighborhood, motorcycle vibrating beneath them. She thought about Sameen's firm arms beneath her palm, against her own, around her body. Root groaned as liquid heat pooled in her stomach.

She could almost feel the weight of Sameen pressing down on her and Root let herself sink into the fantasy. Her body was on fire and she sucked in a deep breath.

"Sameen," Root groaned, pushing her fingers as deep inside of her as she could. "Touch me."

Root felt her body dissolve and then slam back together. She gasped, her back arching off the bed as her whole body shook. After a moment, her body stilled and she dropped down onto the bed, eyes still closed.

She'd touched herself before; her sex life with John wasn't great and Root usually took care of her own needs. It had never been this intense, though. Her body had never gotten so hot or finished so quickly.

Root pulled her hand out of herself, wiping it on the sheet beside herself. The sound of a door closing made her bolt upright in the bed. She stared out her open door, Sameen's door visible through the open frame. Root watched as the light streaming from under the door disappeared, darkness replacing it.

She could hear Sameen's bed creak. Root's heart was pounding in her chest, from the night, from her desire, from the sudden shock she felt at knowing that Sameen had watched her. At the very least, she'd opened her door to listen.

Root realized that their relationship had changed. They were friends, sure, but there was something else now, too. She could feel it inside herself. Root smiled.

Her promise to Zoe, that she would bury and ignore her feelings, was no longer possible. She had made a choice and now she had to be ready to face the consequences. What would the consequences be?

Root deflated, her energy leaving her. What would she say to John? Would she say anything? She decided against it for now. John was so busy anyway that Root had some time to make a decision. It wasn't like she could just throw herself at Sameen.

Suddenly, exhaustion flooded her. She reached under herself to grasp the comforter and shift it out from under her bottom. She covered herself, laying down and turning onto her side to face the wall.

So much had changed within her, but her life hadn't suddenly changed. She was still dating John, still working with Mr Finch. Sameen still saw her as "Reese's girl." Root sighed, closing her eyes and curling into a tight ball.

She would deal with the real world tomorrow. There was all the time in the world to figure out what she wanted. For now, Root would just lay in bed, imagining a warm body pressed to her back, and try and dream of a happy future. There had to be one waiting for her. She closed her eyes and drifted off.


	10. The Hidden City

Shaw threw her head back, finishing her can of beer with a few long swallows. She set it down on the bar, sliding it away from herself toward Harper and gave her a slow smile. That had been her fourth beer, but she was trying to drown some thoughts and needed a couple more.

"Another?" Harper asked her, raising an eyebrow. "You don't usually drink this much."

"I'm dealing with some shit," Shaw answered. She turned her head to look at Fusco. "She wants to be friends. We are friends now."

Fusco looked between Shaw and Harper. "I thought you two were friends."

Shaw sighed loudly and dropped her forehead onto the table. "She's so attractive, Fusco. She practically makes me salivate."

Two nights ago, Shaw had seen Root in a delicate position. She'd left her room to brush her teeth and found Root, naked and panting, moaning Shaw's name. It had taken all of her self-control to keep herself out of that room and out of that bed. Instead, she'd gone back into her room when Root was done, and taken care of herself.

Last night, Shaw had watched a movie on television with Root and Reese. Even though her boyfriend had been on the couch with them, Root had managed to make Shaw feel like it had been a private event. She'd draped her long, impossibly soft legs over Shaw's lap, and played with her hands the entire movie.

Was that normal? Were friends that close? Or had something really changed between them? Was Root flirting with Shaw because she knew Shaw liked women? Did Root like women? She had said Shaw's name, but that could have been the only time, just a dip into a wilder side.

Shaw's only real friend before Root had been Reese and he wasn't particularly affectionate. Even Fusco and Joss weren't touchy people. They weren't like Root, though. Shaw was starting to think there was no one like Root.

A clunk told her that Harper had put a can on the bar in front of her. "Thanks?"

"She's not talking about you," Joss chuckled. "She's got a girl at home who's nothing but trouble."

Fusco snorted. "That tall girl? She was too scared to look you in the eyes when we saw her."

Shaw lifted her head, pulling the can to herself. "Well, we've made up and now she's acting like we're sisters."

"Why was she upset?" Harper asked, leaning against her side of the bar.

Taking a deep drink of beer before setting it down, Shaw rolled her eyes. "She walked in while I was ...indisposed...with a gentleman."

Her friends laughed. Shaw knew it was funny, but she was honestly relieved that the awkwardness was over. Of course, it'd been replaced by much more physical contact than Shaw was used to. If anyone else was acting like Root was, Shaw would have made a move.

"The problem," Shaw explained, "is that she's Reese's girl. I mean, any other time, I would bed her already and move on."

She took another drink, thinking about Sunday again. Had this been how Root had felt after seeing her with Matthew? A slight churning in her stomach? Shaw hadn't felt so conflicted over a girl since high school, but here she was trying to figure out what to do.

Her biggest problem, though she'd never admit it out loud, was that she wasn't just physically attracted to Root. Shaw really liked spending time with her and hearing about her fancy computer job and the neighborhood drama. If she had sex with Root, would it ruin all of that? If she admitted that she might want to be more than friends, would it destroy her life?

Shaw put her can down, sighing loudly. "Would it be wrong to just move away?"

"Yes," Fusco and Joss said at the same time.

They laughed as Shaw grimaced and dropped her forehead back onto the bar. "It wasn't a joke."

A hand rubbed her back, and Shaw peeked to the side to see Joss smiling at her from the next stool over. Shaw let herself look Joss over and wondered if she could convince Joss to come home with her. She could be a great way to blow off steam and Shaw felt like she'd be able to keep it casual.

"Hey," Shaw murmured, lifting her head and leaning into Joss, "where's Taylor tonight?"

Joss raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Why? Trying to keep me from going home?"

Winking, Shaw pulled away. She'd planted the seed and she'd check back again when it was time to leave. Picking up her beer can she took a drink and looked at Fusco. He was nursing a soda again, this time from a can. She had never asked about his sobriety, but she could take a hint.

"I say you just go for it," Fusco suggested. "I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"

Rolling her eyes, Shaw swallowed her drink and gestured towards him with the bottle. "I could get kicked out of Reese's house. He, or Root, could call the cops on me. Homeless and criminal, Fusco! That's the worst!"

Joss took the beer from Shaw's hand and took a drink. Glaring at her, Shaw snatched it back, cleaning off the top of the can. Joss just leaned against the bar, amused.

"Couldn't you just move back home?" Harper asked from across the bar. "Back to wherever you were before?"

"No," Shaw said slowly, knowing she'd have to tell them the truth. "I... may already be a criminal in California."

Harper laughed, surprised, and reached out to push on Shaw's shoulder playfully. "And here I thought I only had law-abiding citizens in my establishment."

Snorting, Fusco shook his head. "So, homelessness is the only thing standing between you and what's-her-name."

"It's not exactly a small thing, Lionel." Shaw shifted on her barstool. "But yes. That and the fact that my best friend is in love with her. Although, I'm having some doubts about him."

"Ok, hold on." Harper opened the fridge and pulled out another Bud. She waved it enticingly in front of Shaw. "I will give you this for free, if you tell me what you did in California that was so bad, you had to move all the way out here."

Wincing, Shaw debated how much she wanted that drink. She didn't really want to talk about what happened, but right now, the image of Root's thighs quivering was still lurking around the edges of her mind. Snatching the can from Harper's hand, Shaw slammed it onto the bar and picked up her open one.

"Alright," she sighed, "I'll tell you, but only because we've grown so close over the past two months."

"Shut up," Joss chuckled. "Finish your beer and tell the damn story."

Shaw gave her a small toast and then tilted her head back to chug the last of her drink. Empty, the beer can hit the bar with a clink and she watched Harper whisk it away. Opening her payment, Shaw smirked to herself.

"In high school," she started, "about.. God, about seventeen years ago, I was a small, baby dyke." She paused so her friends could laugh. "I was a small, baby dyke with a big, grown-up crush...on the Governor's daughter."

She took a sip of beer, letting her friends laugh again. "I'm serious! She was my gay awakening, you know." Shaw winked at Joss, getting a smile back. "Anyway, nothing happened until about five years ago. I was working as a caterer at an event the Governor was hosting and I met her again, she recognized me…"

"You slept with this chick for five years?" Fusco looked skeptical. "I can't imagine you sleeping with someone twice."

"Please don't imagine me sleeping with anyone at all." Shaw grimaced, shivering dramatically. "And no. We slept together a few times over the years. She didn't live in town, only came home for holidays and big events. The last time, about two weeks before you met me, we were caught. Reese's mother hid me away for a while and then we decided it was best that I left."

"Wow," Harper muttered, looking impressed, "for the love of a good woman, huh?"

Shaw shrugged. "She wasn't that great, but I was young."

"You just stopped having sex with her," Joss said. "You're not that much wiser now. Are you sure you're not just lusting after Root because she's there and you're pent up?"

The question made Shaw pause. Was that it? She'd slept with Matthew, but that wasn't the same as sleeping with a woman. Of course, she'd enjoyed it, but men and women were different. Root was different. Was Shaw just looking for an outlet?

She thought about their picnic day, and how nice it had been to just talk about something. Reese hardly talked at all when they hung out, and they'd barely even been doing that. Root was so interesting and she saw the world in such a unique way that Shaw felt like she could listen to her for hours.

Her mouth suddenly felt dry and Shaw quickly lifted her beer to her mouth to drink. She'd never thought about a girl, or anyone like this before, and it made her stomach churn unpleasantly. Something in her wanted to be close to Root, not just physically. She didn't know if it was a romantic feeling, if she even had romantic feelings, but she wanted to be near Root. Even now, surrounded by her friends, Shaw kind of missed her.

"Yeah," she muttered into the top of her beer can, "I'm probably just pent up."

The door to the bar opened and Shaw looked over her shoulder at the newcomer. It was that woman Root had been with, Zoe. Squinting, Shaw sat up, wondering why she was in a bar like this when she'd seemed so uncomfortable on the street. She took a sip of beer.

"Ms. Morgan!" Harper greeted cheerfully. "How have you been?"

"Just fine," she answered, her eyes on Shaw. "Do you have it ready?"

Shaw stared back at Zoe, feeling like she was being challenged. She didn't even know this woman, but she could tell she wasn't liked. There was something about the woman's too-fancy clothing and very stylish hair that made Shaw dislike her. Deciding to ignore her, Shaw turned back to the bar.

Harper nodded to Zoe. "Yeah, in the back. I'll get it."

She walked away, hurrying down the bar, and Shaw looked at Joss, trying to gauge the situation. What would a woman like that be getting from a bar like this? Joss didn't look tense. In fact, she was grinning.

"You were pretty rude to me the other day," Joss said to Zoe, turning her back on Shaw to face her. "I invited the two of you and everything."

Zoe sighed, hiking her purse higher on her shoulder. "I wasn't going to bring Root here." Her eyes slid past Joss to Shaw. "She's in a delicate place right now."

Shaw put her can down on the bar and slid off her stool, drawing herself to her full height. "Root's doing just fine."

"I'm sure you think so," Zoe answered kindly, "but I think your being here has confused her a little bit. She needs some time to remember what she wants. She's not like you."

Gritting her teeth, Shaw shifted her weight, trying to keep herself from punching this woman. "Root is more like me than you think. She doesn't need you to protect her."

"And what will you do when she gets hurt? Or arrested?" Zoe raised an eyebrow. "Toss her aside? Root's deserves better than that."

"I would protect her," Shaw answered, the words leaving her mouth before her brain could catch up. She flushed, but the alcohol was clouding her mind and she was angry that Zoe would insult her. "I wouldn't let her get hurt. I know she deserves better than that. Than me. You don't have to worry."

Shaw clicked her tongue angrily and turned her back on Zoe and her friends. She didn't want them to see her so out of control. She had actually come to think of Root as a friend over the two months they'd known each other and now she was facing the fact that she might be interested in more than just friendship, or casual sex. She knew that, if she had to, she could shut it down and be perfectly fine, but she also knew that Root wouldn't drop it.

For all her nerves and inexperience, Root had been the one to pursue friendship. Shaw would have been happy to be casually acquainted with Reese's girl, but Root had wormed her way into Shaw's good graces. This was all too much for Shaw's limited emotional capability. She needed to blow off some steam.

"Here you go."

Shaw glanced over her shoulder and saw Harper standing on the other side of the bar, a thick envelope in her hand.

"Thanks," Zoe murmured, taking it. She tucked it into her purse, watching Shaw with guarded eyes. "See you next month."

She gave Shaw a sharp nod, a small smile on her face, and then left the bar. The group was quiet for a moment, just looking at the door Zoe had waltzed out of. Sighing, Shaw picked up her drink and turned to Harper.

"What was that about?"

Harper shrugged. "She has connections and makes sure we're protected."

Shaw hummed, taking a drink. "Have you had troubles before?"

"We get raided every now and then, but the Republicans have increased their rhetoric recently." She helped her hands up, helplessly. "I'll pay a little each month for some extra eyes."

"Smart." Shaw chugged the last of her beer and handed the empty can to Harper. She turns to smile at Joss. "Final decision?"

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Shaw bent forward, rubbing the towel over her legs and drying herself off. It was much later than she usually stayed up during the work week, but Joss had come home with her after all and Shaw had needed a shower when they were done. She'd left Joss in her bedroom to relax while she cleaned herself.

Shaw would admit that she felt better now then she had at the bar. Having sex with a woman had satiated her somewhat and the images of Root that had been haunting her were gone for the moment. She was thankful, glad to be back in a familiar headspace.

Standing, Shaw looked at herself in the mirror. She wasn't as skinny as she had been when she'd moved to New York. Root's dinners and her evenings at the Black Cherry had helped her put on some weight again, and she looked healthy. It would probably be in her best interest to start working out regularly, so the suburban life didn't make her soft.

Wrapping her towel around herself, Shaw moved to the door, but froze with her hand on the knob. In the hallway, she heard someone walk by the bathroom, towards her bedroom. A moment later, Root spoke.

"Sameen? Are you in- Oh, excuse me!"

Shaw winced, knowing that Root had walked into her bedroom and seen Joss. She could only hope that Joss was either dressed or under the covers. Root was going to stop coming upstairs if this kept happening.

"It's Root, right?" Joss said. "Sorry to meet again like this."

"That's alright." Root sounded breathless. "I just didn't know anyone was here. Other than Sameen."

"Yeah," Joss replied. "Sorry, again."

"Nothing to be sorry about. I'll just… come back- Well, I'll see her tomorrow. And you! You're welcome to stay for breakfast, of course. I mean, I guess you'll go to work together, so you might as well. Stay. For breakfast."

Shaw leaned her forehead against the bathroom door, a small smile creeping across her face. Root was a better person than she was. Shaw would have just said something rude and stomped away. Root was better than that.

"Thank you." Joss sounded surprised. "Shaw's in the bathroom. Do you need her?"

"Oh, no, that's alright." The sound of footsteps came from the hallway. "I was just going to ask if she wanted to sit on the roof. We...do that. It's fine. I'll talk to her tomorrow night. If she's free."

"Ok. I'll tell her you came by."

"Great."

The footsteps passed Shaw and thumped down the stairs. After a moment, Shaw took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door, turning the light off as she stepped into the hallway. Joss was standing in the doorway of her room, wearing an old flannel robe of Shaw's, her arms crossed. Shaw gave her a tight smile.

"Sorry," she apologized to Joss. "I didn't want to make it weirder."

"I get it now," Joss said, not bothering to reply to what Shaw said. "That girl is so in love with you."

Shaw scoffed, quickly walking to the bedroom and pushing past Joss. "She's just grateful for a friend."

Joss followed her into the room, closing the door behind herself. "I don't think so. She looked shocked to see me."

"Well, I don't think she was expecting you."

"Shaw," Joss said, sitting on the bed and watching as Shaw rifled through her dresser drawers. "Don't play dumb. You know she's interested. That's why Zoe is trying to keep her away."

Shaw pulled out an oversized t-shirt and dropped her towel. "Fine. She likes me. So what? I'm not interested in being someone's experiment and, even if I were, she's dating my best friend."

Sighing, Joss opened her robe and let it fall off her shoulders onto the bed. "I'm just trying to say that you'll have to talk to her about it eventually."

"Will I?" Shaw tugged her shirt over her head. "Maybe if I just ignore it, she'll move on."

"Maybe," Joss relented. "Or maybe she'll pluck up the courage to say something herself."

Scowling, Shaw took a pair of underwear from another drawer and stepped into it. "I'll deal with that if it happens. I don't think it will, though. She may be smart and bold, but there's a limit to that."

"Well-"

"Carter, stop," Shaw snapped. She closed her eyes, the anger draining from her. "Sorry. I just don't want to talk about this. Relationships aren't my thing, and girls like Root aren't my type."

When she opened her eyes, Joss was looking at her sympathetically. "Ok, Shaw. I'll stop. Just- Be nice. If she does come to you."

"Yeah," Shaw muttered, stalking to the light switch on the wall. "I'll let her down easy."

She turned the light off and locked her door.


	11. Between Heaven and Hell

"So, I said 'no, Greer, you're the salami.' Get it?"

Root smiled at John from across the pool. "I get it. You're very funny."

They were out by the pool, taking advantage of the beautiful, summer morning. John was grilling, using his new Charbroil grill. He'd even put on the pinstriped apron Root had bought him a couple years ago. He clapped his tongs at her and turned back to his steaks.

Root settled back in her lounge chair, legs stretched out in front of her, sunglasses on. It was still early, not even noon, but the sun was already blazing. May had definitely brought summer with it and she was glad for the chance to get some color. Later, she'd consider swimming, but for now, she dropped her head onto the pillow behind her and turned her face to the sun like a lizard.

It had been an odd week. After Root had seen Joss in Shaw's bedroom, she'd realized that she had a choice to make. She needed to either say something, or rid herself of her fantasies. It was easy to think of Shaw as some abstract woman who could fill a hole in Root's life that she didn't even know she had. Shaw was a real person, though, and she had a job, and friends, and a life. Root had to decide if she wanted to be a part of that. She was afraid that she did.

Tilting her head to the side, she looked at John. He'd been home almost all week, so she and Sameen hadn't had any alone time. It was nice to hang out with him, though. In his absence, she'd forgotten that they were friends. She liked him a lot as a person, and she enjoyed spending time with him, but she was coming to terms with the fact that he didn't excite her and the love that she felt for him wasn't romantic.

It made her sad to think of a life without him. He had a place in her heart and she wasn't entirely willing to leave him and give that up, but it wouldn't be right to cheat on him and it wouldn't be right to keep lying to herself. So, there had to be a decision.

She probably wouldn't say anything to Sameen about Joss. The morning after Joss had spent the night, Root had made breakfast for them. She tried her best not to make it awkward, but that had been practically impossible. Sameen didn't say a word the whole meal, so Root and Joss had had to fill the silence.

Root liked her and, if it wouldn't be weird, she wanted to be friends with Joss. She didn't have many friends and talking to another woman would be great, but Root didn't know if Joss and Sameen were in a relationship. She'd be surprised if they were.

Root was coming to realize that Sameen wasn't really the type that did relationships, which was complicating her own feelings even more. What if she approached Sameen, they slept together once, and then that was it? Was Root ok with just getting a taste of what could be and then being tormented with the memory forever? Was that any better than only having dreams to live on?

What if she slept with Sameen and found out that she didn't enjoy it? What if Sameen was the type for relationships, and then expected more from Root than she was able to give? What if this was all some fantasy born out of Root's boredom and loneliness? What if she liked men, but John was just the wrong man?

Root sighed and turned her face back up to the sun.

"Have you seen Shaw this morning?" John asked her, turning away from the grill. "I didn't see her come in last night, so I don't know if she's here."

Root shrugged her shoulders, skin brushing against the plastic of her lounge chair. "I didn't see her either."

"Well, I'm making food for her and if she isn't here, I'll save it for her. Are you two going to see a movie tomorrow? I could come with you."

"You should," Root said. "We haven't talked about it, though. So I don't know. It would be nice to spend some time with you. I think Sameen would like that, too. The two of you haven't had a full conversation since she got here."

John chuckled, wryly. "We're not the conversation types."

When Sameen had first moved here, Root had believed that. She'd talked to Sameen a lot since then, though, and they always had good conversations. She was starting to think that it was just John who wasn't a conversationalist. He was a better listener than a talker. Sameen was a good listener, too.

Root wondered what John was like in a courtroom. His cases were usually violent, so he kept her away from them, but she didn't mind. She'd never invited him to her office. He didn't have a head for computers.

The glass doors leading into the house slid open and Root sat up to look over her shoulder. Sameen stepped outside, closing the door behind her. She was wearing sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, her skin sweaty and her face red. She must have gone for a jog, Root thought; that's why they hadn't seen her.

Sameen looked at her, eyes dragging down Root's body. It reminded Root that she was just wearing a bathing suit, her shoulders, stomach, and legs exposed. Sameen's eyes lingered on her stomach and Root realized it was the first time she'd been this unclothed in front of Sameen. She bent her legs slightly, pulling Sameen's attention to them.

Sameen licked her lips, her eyes glued to Root's bare skin. A moment later, she cleared her throat and glanced up at Root's face. Nodding a greeting, she tore her eyes away to turn to John.

"I ran down to the A&P to get some steaks, but it looks like you already had the idea."

John clicked his tongs at her. "I'm making one for you."

"Good," she said. "I'd be pissed if you hadn't."

She looked at Root again, apparently waiting for her to say something. Root stayed silent. She wasn't sure what to say and she was a little bit overwhelmed by Sameen's appearance. Her hair was a little shorter than it was on Friday morning. She must have gone to a barber last night.

It looked good. The cut accentuated her strong bone structure and made her look devilishly handsome. Root gave Sameen a small smile, glad that her eyes were hidden behind large sunglasses, and sat back in her chair.

"You guys going to be out here for a while?" Sameen asked.

"Probably," John replied. "It's a nice day to sit by the pool."

"Yeah," Sameen muttered. She glanced at Root before looking away. "I'm going to change, but I'll be back."

She disappeared into the house again, closing the glass door a little too hard and making the panels shake. Root couldn't imagine what kind of bathing suit Sameen wore. Did she wear men's trunks and a t-shirt? Did she wear a bikini like Root did?

The thought of seeing Sameen's abs again, still sweaty from her morning exercise made Root feel light-headed. She wanted to blame it on the sun, a warning sign of heat stroke, but she couldn't. She couldn't blame it on that, just like she couldn't pretend that she wasn't attracted to Sameen. Whatever logistical issues there were, that was real.

Root wondered if she felt the same way about Sameen as John thought about her. Did he look at Root in her bikini and think about running his hands over her body, the same way that Root saw Sameen's arms and wanted to drag her finger through each bead of sweat? Did John look at Root's legs and imagine them splayed out above him, the way that she imagined Sameen above her, straddling Root's hips, tan skin stark against pale.

She thought about coming up with a reason for a hug, to press her body against Sameen's and feel all of their exposed skin touching. It could be some sort of experiment, she thought. How would she react to something like that? What would the feeling of Sameen's muscular body pressed against her own feel like?

What would Sameen's skin feel like, hot from the sun or cold from the pool? Would swimming make the curls come out of Sameen's hair? What did Sameen look like with her hair plastered to her forehead?

John spoke again, startling Root from her day dream. "Harold tells me that you're working on a personal project at work."

"Oh," Root breathed, gathering herself. "I am! I'm trying to find a better way to have computers display output to the users, like an informational screen, instead of having to be printed. If we can use radio waves and wires to play movies on television screens, I don't see why we can't do the same with a computer. Let the computer talk to us in a more immediate way."

"That's fascinating," John said. He flipped over a steak. "Invent it quickly and patent it. I'm sure we could make millions."

Root laughed, sitting up and stretching her arms over her head. "I thought the men were supposed to be the breadwinners of the household?"

"We are." He smirked and flipped the next steak. "But I think there's nothing wrong with a woman holding her own. Especially one as smart as you."

Root smiled, her heart warming. She thought again about her nervousness to marry John and her worry that he would make her quit her job. Knowing the truth about herself, she could look back and see that her worry was misplaced. That wasn't why she was hesitant to marry him, and John would never hold her back anyway.

The smile fell from her face as she looked at his broad shoulders and bare back. Seeing his skin sweat under the hot sun inspired no fantasy.

"John," Root said softly, "Mr. Finch is planning on sending me to Chicago for a conference, in two weeks. You should come with me."

He looked at her with his eyebrows raised. "A vacation from New York City? I'm very tempted. I'll have to see what my case work looks like. If I can't go, you could always take Shaw."

"Yeah," Root muttered, knowing she would probably combust if she and Sameen shared a hotel for five days. "I could."

He flipped the last steak. "I'm glad the two of you are friends. I only have two women in my life and I'd prefer for them to get along."

"Three, if you count your mother," Root said.

"I try not to think about my mother that way."

The door to the house opened again and Sameen stepped out. Looking at her, Root had to stifle a gasp, her breath catching in her throat. Sameen was wearing a bikini, black and wonderful. It covered more than Root's did, the bottom like shorts and the top extending down to her belly button. Root could still see her abdomen and shoulders.

Letting out her breath, Root looked over Sameen's shoulders, taking in her sharp clavicle and the dip of her throat. Her eyes dropped to lean legs, strong, but not thick. Sturdy. Athletic. Root swallowed hard and flicked her eyes up to Sameen's face.

Root flushed, knowing that her blush was spreading across her exposed chest. Sameen's eyes were dark and unreadable. She smirked, and Root smiled in response, some of the tension leaving her.

"Are you going to swim?" Sameen asked, dropping a towel onto the lounge chair beside Root.

"I might," Root breathed. "Are you?"

"I am." Sameen crossed the small patio to the pool and dipped her toes in. She looked impressed and looked at John. "A heated pool, Reese? You gone soft or something?"

"It's for me," Root laughed. "I think John could swim in the North Pole, but I'd rather be comfortable while I float."

Sameen glanced at her, looking amused. "And the lady always gets what she wants?"

"Exactly."

They laughed. Sameen sat on the edge of the pool, putting her legs in and kicking. With a quick push, she jumped forward into the water. Root watched the ripples anxiously, waiting to see how Sameen would emerge.

Surfacing, Sameen shook her head, her short hair launching water droplets in all directions. She wiped her face with her hands and looked at Root. Her face was unreadable again, but Root could see traces of amusement. It was too nice a day to be mysterious and dramatic.

As she thought that, Sameen's stony face cracked and she grinned. "You should come in. The water's fine."

Root leaned forward on the lounge chair, crossing her legs in front of her. "I will," she said. "I'm just trying to get some sun."

Sameen reached for the side of the pool and pulled herself to it. She crossed her arms on top of it, keeping herself in place. She dropped her chin onto her forearms.

"Careful you don't burn. A tan is nice, but not even you could pull off the lobster look."

"Oh, don't worry," John said from the grill, making them look at him, "she's wearing SPF 70."

Sameen whistled, impressed. "I thought John was pale. He had a perpetual sunburn for our entire childhood. Talk about a 'lobster look'."

Root chuckled, able to picture it clearly. "We took a vacation to Myrtle Beach a couple of years ago and he burned on the first day. He was miserable for the rest of the trip."

"I didn't know my sunscreen wasn't waterproof," he defended. "I put it on. It just didn't stick."

"It stuck to me," Root countered. "We shared the same bottle, but I turned a lovely shade of gold and you turned a wonderful shade of fuschia."

Sameen snorted, pushing away from the wall and used her arms to propel herself backwards. She treaded water, still facing Root. "He's an idiot," she said. She looked at him. "You're an idiot."

"Probably," he sighed.

"Alright," Root said, drawing Sameen's attention to her. "I'm ready to swim."

She swung her legs around, putting her bare feet on the warm concrete of the patio. Taking her sunglasses off, she stood. It felt nice to stand after having sat for almost an hour in the lounge chair. She let her sunglasses fall from her hand onto the chair and started for the pool.

Sameen's eyes were glued to her as she approached and it made her nervous. Root imagined that she could feel Sameen's gaze on her, on her stomach, on her legs. It made her feel warmer than the sun had, the heat spreading through her stomach.

She walked to the steps and carefully started down into the pool. The water was warm around her and she smiled. When she and John had started dating, the pool had not been heated. She'd asked once and the next weekend, John had had a heater installed. The lady had gotten what she wanted.

Stepping off the last step, Root pushed her foot against it, moving forward into the water. By the stairs, the pool was only four feet deep, but the deep end was seven feet. Sameen was treading water in the middle, watching as Root swam towards her. Stopping a few feet away, Root looked at Sameen, meeting her guarded eyes.

She touched her feet to the bottom of the pool and stood. "How's your work?" Root asked, making slow circles in the water with her hands. "Enjoying yourself?"

"I'm still in the warehouse," Sameen answered, rolling her eyes. "It's not awful, but I'd rather be building parts."

"You should talk to your boss. The one you're friends with."

"Fusco? I complain to him constantly, but there's a 'rule' that people have to work in the warehouse for at least a few months." Sameen scowled. "It's really stupid."

Root splashed her slightly, grinning when Sameen glared at her. "You should come to the dance tonight and blow off some steam."

"A dance?" Sameen looked extremely skeptical. She started swimming away from Root into the deep end. "What kind of dance?"

"A sockhop!" Root followed Sameen's retreat, catching up quickly. She swam past Sameen and put a hand on the wall to hold herself. "It's at our Neighborhood Association's clubhouse. It's nothing fancy, but I like dancing."

Sameen drifted to the wall slowly, watching Root with an odd expression. They just looked at each other for a moment, holding on to the pool wall. It would be so easy to close the distance between them and kiss her, Root thought.

She licked her lips, tasting the chlorine of the pool and knew that Sameen would taste the same. Root wanted to kiss her, hold her close under the hot summer sun, but she didn't. She couldn't with John there and that look in Sameen's eyes.

Sameen pushed away from the wall and started floating back toward the center of the pool. "A dance could be fun."

John clicked his tongs, making Root jump. She turned to look at him, hooking her arms over the side of the pool. He gestured to the grill.

"Food's ready." He picked up a plate from a small table next to him. "I'll put them on your lounge chairs."

"Thank you," Root said, smiling at him. "I'm going to stay in for a bit longer and then I'll get out."

Turning Sameen, Root was surprised to find that she wasn't in the pool. A squeak made Root look at the lounge chairs. Sameen was already sitting there, arms outstretched to John, ready to take her plate and fork. Root laughed, shaking her head.

"You can eat so much," Root joked. "I'm very jealous."

Sameen smirked at her, taking the plate from John. "I'm always working up an appetite."

Blushing, Root just sunk lower into the water. She couldn't stop herself from imagining Sameen's mouth on her. Her eyes stayed locked with Sameen and she wondered if Sameen knew what she was thinking.

"I'll go to the dance," Sameen said, cutting her steak into pieces. "Are you going, Reese?"

"Uh, yeah," he said, back at the grill. He put the second steak onto a plate. "I have to go over to Harold's for a couple hours this afternoon, so I'll be late."

Root frowned at him. He hadn't told her that. What if Sameen had decided not to go to the dance? Would he have sent Root alone? She suddenly didn't feel like swimming anymore and headed back to the stairs.

"I guess I'll have to be her escort," Sameen said, her voice a little sharp. When Root looked at her, she was glaring at John's back. "It wouldn't do for a lady to go to a dance alone."

Root got to the steps and stopped for a moment. "Thank you," she said, sincere. "Will you wear a suit?"

Sameen stabbed a piece of steak with her fork. "No way. But I'll wear my nicest pair of jeans."

"I suppose that will do," Root said with a dramatic sigh, starting up the stairs. "I can still be a lady without a gentleman."

Realizing what she'd said, she glanced at Sameen. Opening her mouth to eat her piece of steak, Sameen winked at her. Root blushed, but decided to wink back. Sameen pulled the fork from her mouth and smiled.

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Shaw stared at the clothing that she'd thrown onto the bed. They had to leave for the dance soon, but Shaw still wasn't sure what she should wear. Earlier, she'd told Root that she was just going to wear her nicest pair of jeans, but now she was thinking that that wouldn't be good enough.

Root would look amazing, like she always did, and Shaw didn't want to drag her down by looking like a bum. She reached for a pair of blue slacks, but hesitated. She didn't know what color Root's dress would be and the pale blue could contrast.

She rolled her eyes at herself. This wasn't a date. She didn't need to match her girl so they didn't look out of place at a dance. This wasn't high school. Root wasn't her girl.

Shaw was starting to regret her offer to escort Root. Normally, she'd never be caught at a dance, much less for a neighborhood association. Being someone's date wasn't Shaw's thing. She probably would have backed out if Reese hadn't pissed her off.

Whatever he was doing with his boss, working on a case or whatever, shouldn't affect his relationship with his girlfriend. If Shaw was dating someone like Root, sharp as a wit and beautiful, she would always prioritize her. Women like that deserved respect.

Realizing that she was just staring at her clothing, Shaw sighed. This wasn't a date, and Root wasn't her girl, so it didn't really matter what she wore. She grabbed her light blue slacks, stepping into them quickly.

The jog she'd taken that morning hadn't cleared her head as much as she would have liked. Joss had put the idea into her head that Root liked her and now Shaw couldn't stop thinking about it. She didn't think that Root would do anything, or say anything, but now Shaw was starting to wonder if she wanted her to.

She pulled her pants up, quickly tucking in her white button down shirt. As annoyed as she was that she had to go to a public event, Shaw was glad to spend time with Root. Reese had been hanging around all week and she was pretty sure he was coming to their movie night. It was weird to be angry that her best friend wanted to spend time with her, but Shaw had gotten used to having Root's full attention.

Groaning, she zipped up her pants. She shouldn't care about Root's attention. She should care about making enough money to get her own place and move out. Even after a couple of months, she hadn't saved enough to get an apartment. It was frustrating that Reese was so successful and she was struggling.

She hated that he was so much better than her. Maybe that bitterness was why she didn't want to spend time with him, but knowing that didn't make it go away. There was a reason he'd caught a woman as amazing as Root. He had everything women wanted, money, a fancy job, a nice house. Shaw didn't even have enough to fill a bedroom.

Maybe she just needed to prove to herself that she was as good as he was, that she could have a woman like Root, even if she didn't want one. Root deserved better than him anyway. She needed to find someone that would pay attention to her and have good conversations and make her life interesting.

Shaw could do that. She scowled, trudging to her dresser and pulling out a pair of socks. She didn't want to steal Root away from Reese, but she could show her a good time. She would make this the best dance Root had ever been to, and be the best escort she could have.

If she told herself that she was doing it out of spite, to prove to Reese that he needed to treat his girl better, then she didn't have to call it a date. Because it wasn't. She was just taking a lady to a dance. She just wanted to have a good time with a friend. Quickly putting her socks on, Shaw went to her bedroom door and pulled it open.

Root was leaning against the wall opposite the stairwell. She looked up when Shaw opened the door, looking her over. Shaw frowned. Root looked amazing, her dress the same pale blue as Shaw's pants. Soft curls hung over her shoulders, and her lips were a pretty pink.

"Ready?" Root asked.

Shaw nodded. "Yeah, I just have my shoes downstairs."

Grinning, Root hurried down the stairs. "Come on!"

Walking down the hallway, Shaw smiled softly. Root's enthusiasm was as infectious as always. She was excited for their date. For their not Date. Shaw sighed and started down the stairs. She was only doing this to prove a point. She was just doing this so Root had a nice night.

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Root grinned as she stepped into the dance hall, the music reverberating in her chest. The normally empty room had been transformed, streamers on the wall and balloons on the ceiling. Purple and pink lights splashed against the walls and made the entire room glow. It was a big room, used for community events and bingo on Monday nights.

She looked down at Sameen to gauge how she was feeling. Sameen looked unimpressed, but not uncomfortable or annoyed. Root squeezed the hand that she had wrapped around Sameen's arm. When Sameen looked up at her, Root gestured her head to the tables that had been set up to the side.

"Let's claim some seats," Root said over the music.

Sameen nodded and started toward the tables. Root had only come to these events with John before and she could see some people watching her hang on the arm of someone else. It didn't bother her to see them gossiping. She was happy to be with Sameen, and happy to be at a dance.

They got to the tables and Sameen dropped Root's hand so she could pull a chair out for her. Root looked at her, surprised, but took the chair, letting Sameen tuck her back into the table, too. Sameen took the seat beside her, putting her elbow on the table and dropping her chin into her hand.

"Impressive," Sameen said, looking around casually. "I was expecting a much lower production level."

"They go all out," Root laughed. "The committee is just a bunch of women who don't have jobs, so they plan these events to feel something."

Sameen raised her eyebrows, the corners of her mouth curling up. "Wow, I don't think I've heard you insult someone like that before."

Shrugging, Root just looked around the room. "I don't dislike wives, but I wish they didn't act so mindless. I wouldn't be satisfied as a wife."

There were a few couples dancing and Root was tempted to join them. She wasn't sure Sameen would dance with her, but Root could probably make her. Root felt full of pent up energy, restless. She needed to do something physical.

Looking at Sameen, Root met her eyes. Caught staring, Sameen straightened up and looked away.

"Do you want to dance?" Sameen asked, tugging on her shirt collar. "That's the point of this whole thing, right?"

Root grinned. "The main point anyway."

"Then, do you want to?" Sameen raised an eyebrow. "I'm here to make sure you have a good time."

"I always have a good time with you," Root laughed. "I think John's wrong. You're a great conversationalist."

Sameen snorted. "You're probably the only person that thinks that."

"I doubt it," Root said, shrugging. "I think you're really interesting."

The tips of Sameen's ears turned pink and she rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

Root was learning that when Sameen said 'whatever' what she meant was 'I'm embarrassed.' She was also learning not to take Sameen very seriously. She wasn't as scary as Root had first thought, and she was actually kind and smart. It was nice to be out on a date with her.

This wasn't a date, Root reminded herself, even though it felt like it. They were just friends. Her heart skipped a beat as Sameen stood and offered Root her hand.

"May I have this dance?" Sameen asked, a smug smile on her face.

Root nodded, delicately placing her hand onto Sameen's. "You may."

They laughed as Root stood, the formal language highlighting how silly the whole situation was. Walking to the dancefloor together, hands clasped, they shared a playful look. Root was already having more fun than she'd ever had at a dance. It was so easy to be near Sameen, calming and exciting at once.

She noticed the looks from the other women around the room and wondered if they thought she was cheating on John, or if they could tell that Sameen was a woman. With her shorter hair, Sameen looked more masculine, but Root could see her feminine details. She had thick eyelashes, and kissable lips. Root had never seen a man with lips like that.

When they got to the dancefloor, Sameen pulled Root in a small circle, shifting their hands to hold Root's high. Her other hand came up to rest on Root's waist and pulled her close. Root grinned down at her and put her hand on Sameen's shoulder.

"Are you going to lead?" Root asked.

Sameen smirked. "Of course."

The band hit the final notes of their song and the people around them stopped dancing to clap, but Sameen didn't let Root go. Instead, she just rolled her eyes and adjusted her grip on Root's hand. She shifted her feet.

"I might not be the best dancer," she said. "I'm a little out of practice."

Root shrugged. "I don't care how good of a dancer you are, Sameen. I'm just glad to be dancing with you."

Sameen narrowed her eyes at Root, like she suspected a trick, but Root was telling the truth. Even if they left right now, this would be the best dance she'd ever been to. Sameen was going out of her way to make sure Root had a good time and that was making her feel warm and safe.

"Remember that when I step on your feet," Sameen muttered. "I'll try to step softly."

Grinning, Root took a small step backwards, pulling Sameen with her. She laughed as Sameen stumbled, frowning as she regained her balance. She glared at Root.

"That doesn't count! There isn't even music."

Root just laughed at her, sliding her hand from Sameen shoulder around to the back of her neck. "Well, they're starting again, so get ready." She ran her fingers over the soft hair on the back of Sameen's head as the band started up the slow intro to Nat King Cole's 'When I Fall in Love.' "You should keep your hair a little longer than this."

Sameen took a small step forward, and then to the left, starting them on a simple, slow box step. The hand on Root's waist moved to the small of her back. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Root replied, a little surprised at how easily they were moving together. "It looks nice, but I like your curls."

A small smile tugged at Sameen's mouth. "I like them, too. I'll keep them next time."

"Good," Root said, tugging on Sameen's short hairs. "You'll be beating women away with a stick."

Sameen just raised an eyebrow, looking thoughtful. They danced silently for a while, still moving in their slow box step. It was so easy to just dance together, and be in the same space. She could imagine lazy summer mornings in a bedroom full of windows and quiet nights spent out under the stars. Swallowing, Root took her hand from Sameen's and wrapped it around Sameen's shoulders. She sighed when Sameen's now free hand also held on to her back.

"So," Root said, trying to sound casual, "are you and Joss dating? You didn't let Matthew stay over like that."

Sameen's fingers scratched at the back of Root's dress and she looked up with guarded eyes. "We're just friends."

"Oh?" Root said, knowing from the way Sameen's guarded look shifted to an amused one that she had sounded too relieved. "Well, that's nice that she's...there for you."

"It was a one time thing," Sameen assured her, as the music stopped again. She kept them moving, though. "I just needed to blow off some steam."

Root wondered what had worked Sameen up so much that she needed to have sex with a friend. If it happened again, who would Sameen turn to? Joss again, or someone else? She was jealous of the people who got to touch Sameen. An Elvis song began to play and they changed their rhythm to match.

"Root," Sameen said, making Root look down at her, "do you want a drink?"

"I want to keep dancing," Root replied. She pulled away from Sameen, dragging her hands down the sleeves of Sameen's button down and taking her hands. "Spin me!"

She spun on her toes, not waiting for Sameen's answer. Sameen had to jump towards her to stretch her arm high enough to hold Root's hand above her head. The awkward angle made Root lose her balance and stagger to the side. Strong arms wrapped around her waist and hauled her upright.

Her hands clutched Sameen's shoulders to steady herself. Root laughed breathlessly, shaking her head to get her hair out of her face. She wasn't fully on her feet yet, Sameen holding her up in a slight dip, her face hovering above her. Looking up at Sameen, Root felt her heart skip a beat.

Sameen was looking at her with the strangest expression, both nervous and sure at once. Her eyes were dark, boring into Root's and pulling her in. Root wanted to kiss her, wanted to yank her down and crash their lips together, even if they ended up on the floor. She didn't care about the people around them, about the dance, about propriety.

Licking her lips, she saw Sameen do the same. Root wrapped her arms around Sameen's neck, hands spreading over thick hair. Her eyes fluttered as Sameen's head almost dipped, and she knew that Sameen wanted to kiss her, too. They were so close, bodies pressed tight together, sharing heat.

"Sameen," Root whispered.

She gasped as Sameen's arms wrapped tighter against her, somehow bringing them even closer together. Her face was inches from Root's. Root's eyes started to flutter shut when a man's voice startled them.

"Root!" John called.

Her heart raced, a chill spreading through her body as reality slammed into her. Suddenly, she could hear the music again, aware of the colored lights and the hardwood floor beneath her. Sameen helped her stand fully upright, letting her go and stepping backwards.

"John," Root gasped, carefully adjusting her hair as she turned to look at him. Her hands shook with nerves. "You're here!"

He looked handsome in his black tuxedo, clean and dignified. He smiled at her and nodded. "Of course, I am. I would never leave you to fend for yourself at dance like this."

"Oh, I have Sameen." Root looked over her shoulder, but Sameen was gone. "I had her, anyway."

"May I have this dance?"

He offered her his arm and she took it, looking around as they walked into place. His hand held her hip, the other taking her hand, and it felt completely different than it had with Sameen. She swayed in place with him.

Looking for Sameen, Root spotted her by the punch table, holding a beer and talking to Matthew Reed. Root frowned, her worry that Sameen would turn to someone else when she had an itch to scratch flooding her again. She was tired of finding Sameen with other people.

From across the room, Sameen glanced at her, her brows drawn down over dark eyes. Root was the one who turned away, resting her cheek on John's shoulder and stepping closer. She felt a little more normal as she leaned against him, a little more mundane and safe. It made her feel conflicted.

On the one hand, she knew that her relationship with John wouldn't challenge her. It would stay the same, and let her focus on her career. It was stable and calm, and John was a nice guy.

On the other hand… Root turned her face to rest her other cheek at John. She could see Sameen, flirting with Matthew and ignoring Root. Sameen was everything Root had dreamed of. She was smart, kind in a gruff way, interesting in mechanics and building and learning. She had so much to teach Root. Every day would be a new adventure.

She knew what she wanted. What she didn't know was how to get it. Sameen glanced at her again, meeting Root's eyes. After a moment, Sameen said something to Matthew and started towards them, her beer bottle hanging loosely from her fingers.

"Hey," she said as she got close. "Let's blow this popsicle stand. I want ice cream."

Root smiled, pulling away from John. "Ice cream? It's eight pm."

Sameen raised an eyebrow. "Are they closed or something? I said I want ice cream. You know the rule."

"I do," Root laughed. "A lady always gets what she wants."


	12. Don't Knock The Rock

Root sighed, tapping her punchcards on her desk and putting them into a box. Despite it being Sunday, she was at work, the only one in the office. After she'd gone to Mr. Finch about her project, to tell him what she'd been working on and how someone in the office had been stealing from her, he'd made it an official job.

Apparently, he'd been working with the Department of Defense to find a way to access a computer in another building. Right now, they only had a maximum distance of 200 feet, but that wasn't good enough if they wanted to beat the Russians into space. So, her project had shifted focus from a digital display, to finding a solution to their distance problem.

Root didn't mind. This work had to be done before they built a display anyway. What would be the point of being able to display information if they still had to print the date and physically take it to another office?

She sighed and stood, picking up the box and placing it onto a stack of boxes near the door. It felt like the project would take forever. They couldn't just put wires from building to building between the places where it needed to go, and, even if they could, they'd have to build a machine to send and receive the information.

She wasn't going to quit, though. If anyone could figure it out, it would be her, and she was enjoying the work. The project was giving her an excuse to be more hands-on, actually do the math, and problem solve, instead of just do administrative work.

The problem she was running into was that someone was still taking punchcards. Now that most of the office had switched to working on this singular project, she couldn't just lock the cards away in her office. People needed access and the cards were going through more hands than ever.

Taking the box's lid from her desk, she closed the box. Mr. Finch was having some men turn a room on another floor into a storage room for cards, but for now, she had to keep some boxes in her office. Root went back to her chair and dropped into it.

She rested her arms on her desk, looking at the stacks of notebooks and scrap paper around her. Mr. Finch had only asked her to come in so she could take a phone call with the Department of Defense's research department, but she'd ended up trying to get some work done while she had the whole floor to herself.

It had been hard to focus, but she'd managed to get some calculations done. She was relieved to be out of John's house. Sameen had left almost as soon as the sun had come up to go for her morning jog. Root had spent the night in the guestroom, working on the radio she was building just for fun, and Sameen's bedroom door slamming had woken her up and Root hadn't been able to fall asleep.

Twice the day before she'd almost kissed Sameen, once in the pool and once at the dance. The second time, Sameen had almost kissed her back. Root wondered what she would have done if they'd kissed. Probably burst into flames, she thought, laughing to herself.

What did it mean, though? Should Root say something about it? Should she try to kiss Sameen again? Root sat back in her chair, using her feet to turn herself slowly in a circle. What good would it do? A kiss wouldn't cure her of her longing, or suddenly make John disappear.

There was a knock on Root's door and she jumped. Glancing at the clock on the wall, she saw that it was almost six, the whole day gone somehow. She wasn't expecting anyone.

"Come in," she said, pulling herself closer to the desk.

The door opened, and Sameen walked into the office, holding a brown paper bag in her hands. She looked around the room, leaving the door open, and walked to Root's desk. Turning her attention to Root, she tossed the bag onto a stack of paper.

"You seem like the type who forgets dinner."

Root smiled. "I am," she said, reaching for the bag. "Thank you."

Sameen nodded, and looked back at the stack of boxes. She jerked her thumb at them. "Moving out?"

"No," Root answered, snapping the tape on the back with her finger and peeking into the bag. "Punchcards."

"Huh," Sameen snorted. "No idea."

There were two boxes and something wrapped in foil inside the bag and Root pulled it all out. Unwrapping the foil first, she laughed as she saw a cheeseburger, stacked high with toppings and shiny with grease. She started moving papers away from the center of the desk.

"Is this our food now?" Root asked, carefully putting some papers on an already unsteady pile. "We always eat cheeseburgers when it's just the two of us?"

Sameen gave her a tight smile and sat in one of the chairs opposite Root's desk. She spread her legs, resting her elbows on the arms of the chair. Like always, she looked out of place, but incredibly comfortable.

"Sure," Sameen said with a shrug. "I just figured you'd probably skipped lunch and could use a bigger dinner."

Thinking over her day, Root realized that she never stopped for lunch, just like Sameen had assumed. "Wow," Root said, opening a box to reveal fries, "you're right. I didn't even think about it."

"There you go." Shaw lifted a foot onto the seat of her chair, then seemed to think better of it and put it back on the floor. "What do you do in this fancy office?"

Root opened the third box and found two small plastic cups of ketchup. She opened those, too and dipped a fry into one. Tossing it into her mouth, she pointed at the boxes.

"That mostly," she answered with her mouth full. "The Department of Defense gave us a contract to figure out long distance connection."

"Interesting," Sameen hummed, watching Root pick up her burger. "We make radios for the DoD. Fusco has to deal with the suits all the time."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Root eating her food and Sameen pretending not to watch. Root tried to eat neatly, but it was impossible with such a messy burger. After a while, Sameen leaned forward and snatched a few fries from the box.

Sitting, but she pushed one into her mouth. "Is the work fun?"

"Mmhmm." Root nodded, putting her burger down and picking up a napkin. She swallowed and wiped her face. "For the most part. Someone keeps stealing punchcards, though."

"The boxes?"

Root smiling, finding Sameen's confusion cute. "You don't know what a punchcard is?"

Sameen raised an eyebrow. "Should I?"

"I guess not," Root answered, chuckling. "I'm just used to everyone around me trying to prove that they're smarter than me."

"I know more than you about some stuff," Sameen defended, "but I can admit that you know way more than I do about all this computer nonsense. I can fix a tv, but that's the extent of my knowledge."

Root picked up a fry, taking a small bite. "That's more than a lot of people can do!" She stuck the rest in her mouth. "Anyway, punchcards are basically pieces of cardstock that we punch holes into and then the computer can read them. We number them carefully to make sure they stay in the right order, and if any get lost, we have to do all the calculations again."

"Sounds tedious," Sameen sighed, shoving the last few fries in her hand into her mouth. "Someone's been taking them?"

Nodding, Root raised her eyebrows. "I have to keep the accessible so people can work, but I keep finding packets missing."

Sameen hummed, leaning forward in the chair to rest her elbows on her knees. "You could rig a box to stain them."

"What?" Root said around a mouthful of burger.

"Get some blank punchcards, or trash, or something," Sameen said, "and put them in a box and rig the box to spray ink or dye when someone opens it. Then, when they come to work the next day, they've been stained."

Root smiled. "That's a great idea."

"I've been known to have them occasionally." She smiled, amused, and reached for more fries. "These, for example."

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Root put her water down on the coffee table and leaned back on her couch so she could watch Sameen rifle through the stuff on her dinner table. They'd gone back to Root's apartment because Sameen had been curious about where Root lived. Wanting to spend more time with her, and willing to do it anywhere, Root had agreed.

"Is this junk, or in use?" Sameen asked, picking up a fistful of cable segments.

"Both?" Root answered, shrugging. "I'm never here, so it gets pretty messy."

"Dump it and go," Sameen said, teasing. "I get it."

She dropped the cables back onto the table and took a step to the side, tilting her head to read the titles on a stack of books. Root took her glass again, gripping it carefully so the condensation didn't make her fingers slip. She drank the cold water and ran her eyes over Sameen.

It felt very odd to be in her own apartment with Sameen, like they were sneaking around. They weren't, though. They were allowed to spend time together, but Root couldn't help but feel like she was indulging in some forbidden activity.

"You read a lot," Sameen said, turning to look at Root. "I hardly read anymore. I might borrow some books."

"Sure!" Root replied, surprised. "You can take whatever you want. I've read everything I have a thousand times over."

A ghost of a smile crossed Sameen's face and she nodded. "I'll take a recommendation."

Root hummed and put her glass down, climbing to her feet. She walked to a tall cabinet tucked into a corner. She opened the doors, revealing three shelves of books, a record player, and her record collection. Root looked along the shelf.

"You like horror," she muttered, searching. "...I should organize these again soon." Spotting what she wanted, she pulled it from the shelf and turned around. "Here you go."

"'The Call of Cthulhu,'" Sameen read aloud. She raised her eyebrows. "You like Lovecraft?"

"Of course." Root grinned, crossing back to the couch and dropping down. "The library in my hometown would get them as soon as they were published. I read them all so many times."

Sameen looked impressed. She put the book onto the coffee table and wandered over to the record player.

"You continue to surprise me," Sameen said quietly, squatting down in front of the records. "I would never have thought you would be into horror movies and gothic novels." She glanced at Root. "You're a lot cooler than I expected."

Root smiled, sinking into the couch. She lifted her shoes onto the couch and started to unbuckle her shoes. "You should have seen me in Texas," she said, chuckling. "I used to pay high school seniors to buy me beers and then ride my bike to the next town over to sneak into their movie theaters and watch scary movies. I got caught more than once."

Sameen's face was unreadable. "Were you very different then?"

"I was." Root dropped her shoes onto the floor and reached for her garter clip, ready to be comfortable. "I was a wild child. I always had bruises and scrapes. I'd cut my own hair and look crazy. My mom was sick a lot, so I did what I had to to take care of her." Root started rolling down a stocking. "I was really mad, I think, so I just got into a lot of trouble. I made sure to get straight A's though."

"Yeah," Sameen said, turning back to the records. "I was the same way. Without the good grades."

Root tossed her stocking onto the floor and moved her hands to her other thigh. She turned the conversation away from herself. "You and John were in a gang, right? He told me a little bit about it. I think he was trying to impress me."

Sameen barked a laugh as she looked through records. "I was in a gang. John mostly tagged along. He wouldn't do anything illegal, but he'd get in a fight if someone threatened me. I didn't have parents at all, so even less to care about. Is your mom ok now?"

Root's hands slowed halfway down her leg, her fingers twisting her stockings. She didn't think about her childhood a lot, hardly ever, and she was finding it difficult now. When she thought about her past, she found herself missing the girl she'd used to be, when she was younger and carefree.

She missed her midnight bike rides, and wearing overalls and too-large t-shirts. She missed hanging out by the train tracks and talking to the drifters who'd tell her stories about the city. She missed climbing trees, and just not caring about what people thought of her.

"She's, um," Root shook her head, pulling her stocking the rest of the way down. "She died. While I was in college."

That same unreadable look turned back to her and she felt like crying. She wanted Sameen to hold her and tell her that it wasn't her fault her mother had died, that her mother would have wanted her to take her finals instead of coming home for the funeral. Root felt like she'd lost herself when she lost her mother and now she was just going through the motions.

"I'm sorry," Sameen said quietly. "I'm sure she'd be proud of you. Your fancy job."

"Yeah," Root rasped. She cleared her throat. "So, uh, you lived with John and his mom. That must have been fun."

"It was weird." Sameen eyed her again before turning to the records. "She was really nice, but I was never really her daughter. I don't think she liked that I brought girls home."

Root put her stocking on the couch and pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "You brought girls back? In high school? You must have had a much more active social life than I did."

"I got around," Sameen laughed. She dropped back on her butt, sitting on the floor and crossed her legs. "When I wasn't in detention, I was making my way through the student body, if you know what I mean."

"I'm jealous," Root said, resting her cheek on her knee. "I didn't date anyone until college, and even then it was because he could afford the newest versions of our textbooks."

Sameen leaned back on her hands and looked at Root. "Did you ever get in trouble at school?"

"Not in college," Root sighed. "I was trying to be good then. I did get suspended once for punching a boy after he grabbed my breast in the hallway. They didn't put it in my record, though, because I was in line for a scholarship and I was in the right anyway."

"You punched a boy?" Sameen said in disbelief. "I can't imagine you hurting a fly."

"I said I was a wild child!" Root laughed. "I got detention my freshman year because I pulled the hair of this girl who was mean to my best friend. I don't want to make myself sound violent, but I had a few scrapes."

Sameen looked thoughtful and amused. "You're so mature now."

Sighing, Root reached for her water. "Yeah, I had to grow up. It was hard being one of the only women in my college department, and then I had to fit in to work at Mr. Finch's. Of course, when I got promoted, then I had to be good enough, and pleasant enough, but also strict enough, to lead a team of men. I think dating John has tamed me some, too."

"Nothing should stop you from being yourself."

Root gave her a sad smile. "It doesn't always work that way. I think I started to lose my freedom when my mom got sick. I had to be responsible for her, and myself. After that it was all about doing whatever it took to get to where I am now."

Sameen seemed to stare into her soul. "Then, what now? You've gotten to where you wanted to be, right? You can be yourself again."

The words made Root feel sick, like she'd stumbled on a crime scene. She didn't even know who she was anymore. There was no way to go back to that carefree kid she used to be, but living like she was, with John and her job, just made her feel like a ghost. She sucked in a shaking breath.

"I wish I could have met you before," she said, voice trembling. "When I was more of a person."

"I like you now," Sameen replied. "I'm sure I would have liked you back then, but I like you now, too."

"I'm going to change for bed."

She jumped off the couch, hurrying out of the room, down the hall, and into her bedroom. Closing the door, she slumped against it, taking deep breaths. It had been a while since she'd thought about her mother and her childhood. Root had buried her feelings about leaving her mother behind to go to college and she wasn't ready to deal with them now. Sameen was in the living room, being kind and understanding, and Root didn't want to overwhelm her with feelings.

Rubbing her hands over her face, Root went to her dresser and changed into her night clothes. She had a satin set, pants and a button down, that she rarely wore, but they felt less like putting on pajamas. Sameen might leave before Root got back out there, but if she didn't, Root would offer for her to spend the night.

It was late, and Root's apartment was closer to both of their jobs. It wouldn't kill Root to sleep on the couch for one night, and let Sameen sleep in her bed. Now that she was thinking about the past, Root didn't want to be alone. Even as she pushed it all down again, she couldn't handle the quiet, but she didn't want to go back to John either.

Hands freezing on the last button of Root's shirt, she looked at the bed. She hadn't had a sleepover in years, since her freshman year of college before the other girls started to hate her. It would be nice to sleep in the same bed as a girl again, as a friend again. Root missed the companionship.

Deciding she'd been hiding away for too long and that she was emotionally stable enough to face Sameen, Root headed for the door. She opened it and walked back to the living room. As she crossed through the doorway, she heard music. Sameen was swaying in front of the record player, nodding in time to the beat.

"You like Dinah Washington?" Root asked Sameen, speaking over the music.

Sameen spun on her toes and mimed shooting a gun at Root. "Hell yeah," she replied. "I won't drink in a bar that doesn't have Dinah in the jukebox."

Laughing, Root shook her head, leaning against the doorframe. "Are you going to go back to John's? You could spend the night here."

"Yeah?" Sameen asked, smirking. "Sure. I've slept on worse couches."

"I thought…" Root a deep breath, crossing her arms. "We can share the bed. I don't have cooties."

Sameen stopped dancing. She stared at Root across the room, looking a little bit shocked. "You don't have to."

"I want to," Root said, shrugging casually. "It's not a big deal."

A muscle in Sameen's jaw twitched as she clenched it. Her hands balled into fists. "Why?"

Root opened her mouth, ready to admit that she liked Sameen, and ready to ask for more, but her voice caught in her throat. "Sleepover," she croaked. "Like a sleepover."

"I never had sleepovers," Sameen responded, still tense.

"Then we have to!" Root was glad to have a reason to share a bed, but disappointed in herself for chickening out. "We can brush each other's hair and tell ghost stories and sleep in the same bed."

Sameen finally relaxed, her body seeming to sigh with relief. "I don't need a whole production. Just something to sleep in."

Root realized that Sameen would have to wear something of hers to bed and she felt lightheaded. She was wearing her only set of night clothes with pants. Sameen would have to wear a gown. Root giggled, taking in Sameen's rough jeans and loose t-shirt.

"What?" Sameen asked her, moving to the record player. "What's so funny?"

"I'll have to put you in a nightgown," Root answered. "How long has it been since you wore a skirt?"

Sameen groaned as she stopped the music and picked up the record. "I can't even remember. Can't I wear what you're wearing?"

"I only have the one." She watched Sameen slide the record into its cardboard cover. "I guess I could change."

"Nah, It's alright, I guess." Sameen shut the cabinet doors. "I'll live." She pointed a stern finger at Root. "But you can't tell anyone."

Root made an X over her heart with a finger. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

Turning on her heel, she started back down the hallway, in a much better mood than she had been in the last time. She hummed to herself as she walked into her bedroom, leaving the door open, and went to her dresser. There was a nightgown in her third drawer that hit her at mid-thigh, so they'd go down to Sameen's knees, decent and not too restricting.

She pulled it out and moved to the bed. Behind her, she heard a low whistle.

"This is a nice room," Sameen said, making Root look at her. "I don't know why you settle for Reese's."

Root looked around, trying to see the place with fresh eyes. Her bedroom was a little more than twice the size of Sameen's. At one end, she had two couches, a small table, and a wall of bookshelves. Before she met John, she'd loved to hang out in the mornings and drink coffee while she read.

At the other end of the room was her bed, a King that took up a lot of space. Root was tall and she liked being able to sprawl out. That was something she gave up to stay at John's, but she usually thought it was worth it. Now, she was looking forward to having company in bed, but Sameen's smaller size meant that she wouldn't be cramped.

It was a nice room. The wall of windows in the living room continued into the bedroom, the city lights visible. Looking out and remembering how happy she had been to have her own place and for it to be so big and comfortable, Root felt her heart clench. Talking with Sameen today was making her see how much of herself had been lost in recent years. Where was the wild girl who hadn't cared about fitting in, having boyfriends, or being ladylike.

She smiled weakly and held the nightgown out for Sameen. "I like it. Maybe I'll spend more time here."

"I mean, don't disappear," Sameen mumbled, taking the soft, yellow gown. "I'm just saying it's a nice place."

"We could have more sleepovers," Root offered. "On a weekend night, so we can really do it up."

Sameen smirked at her. "Like teenagers."

"Exactly!" Root grinned. She gestured to the clothing in Sameen's hands. "Go change."

Nodding, Sameen headed out of the room and across the hall to the bathroom. She closed the door. Letting out a breath, Root climbed onto the bed, crawling up to the head. It took her a moment to toss off the decorative pillows, and then she pulled the covers back and slid under them.

Her heart was pounding. Was she going to do anything tonight? Make a move on Sameen? She didn't feel like herself, staying in her own room. Maybe she felt more like herself than ever. Root scooted to the side, leaving the half of the bed close to the door open for Sameen.

She heard a door close and Sameen stuck her head into the bedroom. "Do you want me to turn off all the lights?"

"Oh," Root said. "Yes, please."

Sameen waved a hand and disappeared again. Root couldn't believe that she'd forgotten to get her apartment ready for bed. She was so focused on being close to Sameen that she hadn't even thought about it. Nervously playing with her fingers, she waited for Sameen to return.

A minute later, the hall light turned off and Sameen came into the bed room. She looked like a child in Root's nightgown, only her calves visible beneath the cotton. She'd pushed the long sleeves up to her elbows, leaving her forearms free. Root smiled. Sameen looked like a boy who'd been forced into his sister's clothes.

"I'm turning the light off," Sameen announced before flipping the switch.

Lights still streamed in from the windows, illuminating the furniture and letting Root see Sameen's outline as she got into bed. She stayed closed to the edge, laying on her back. There was so much space between them and Root knew that it would give her away immediately to move any closer. She sighed and laid down, tucking the covers over her and up to her chin.

"Root?" Sameen's voice came from the dark. "Do you have plans tomorrow night?"

"No," Root answered, turning onto her side to look at Sameen. She could only see the outline of her shadow against the wall. "Why? You want to have another sleepover so soon?"

Sameen snorted. "No. I'm going to a race tomorrow night. There's a dirt track about a thirty minute drive from here and a bunch of us from the Black Cherry are going. You should come."

Grinning as her heart sung to be invited to something like this by Sameen, Root was thankful for the dark. "Sure," she said. "I don't have plans."

"We'll be out pretty late," Sameen warned her, "and it's a work night, so-"

"Sameen," Root cut her off, "that's alright. I'd love to spend time with you and your friends."

Sameen sniffed, turning onto her side away from Root. "Whatever. Good night, wild girl."

"Good night, Sameen," Root said quietly.

She stared at Sameen's back in the dark, longingly. That didn't seem like an invitation, even if she had the courage to move closer. Root licked her lips. She didn't want to be weird, or force herself on Sameen, but her whole body was yearning for contact and Sameen was right there.  
Root wasn't sure how long she was staring at Sameen, trying to decide what to do when Sameen rolled onto her back. Quickly dropping her head to her pillow, Root slammed her eyes shut, pretending to sleep. She held her breath, her heartbeat sounding like it filled the room.

When nothing happened, Root let out her breath as slowly and quietly as possible. She cracked an eye and, seeing that Sameen's head was still turned away, she blinked her eyes open. She hadn't been caught staring.

Root was pretty sure that she wouldn't get any sleep. Her whole body was vibrating with tension and she couldn't tear her eyes away from Sameen. A soft snore escaped from Sameen's mouth and Root raised her eyebrows, surprised that Sameen had fallen asleep so quickly.

Taking a deep breath, Root inched closer, trying to keep the bed as still as possible. She was terrified that Sameen would wake up, that she'd be caught, that she'd have to explain the overwhelming need she had to hold Sameen in her arms. She stretched a hand across the bed, resting it on Sameen's forearm.

Immediately, she felt terrible. How could she make a move like this when Sameen was asleep? What was she even planning on doing? Just curl against her and pray that she doesn't wake up? Root didn't want to make a move like this. She wanted to look Sameen in the eye and tell her she wanted her and let Sameen kiss her.

Root pulled her hand away and turned over, her back to Sameen. She imagined that she heard a sigh and squeezed her eyes shut. There would come a time when she and Sameen would wrap up in each other and spend all night in each other's arms, but it wasn't right now.

A moment later, Sameen's arm came to lay over Root's waist, her body pressing into Root's back. Root gasped, immediately tensing in case Sameen's arm went away. It didn't, though, and her fingers pinched at the satin of Root's loose night shirt.

She was warm against Root, the thin cloth of their pajamas doing nothing to shield Sameen's body heat. Root could feel her chest move as she breathed, and let the rhythm lull her. Smiling, Root relaxed into the bed.

It felt safe to have Sameen so close. It felt a little wild, too, Root thought. She let herself enjoy the feeling, let herself ignore that tomorrow night, she'd be laying like this with her boyfriend, Right now, it was her, the woman she liked, and the feeling of their bodies together. Root let herself drift off.


	13. Friendly Persuasion

Root stood in the living room, impatiently swinging her handbag as she waited for Sameen to come downstairs. They were late for the street car racing event and, even though Sameen had told her that it wasn't something people showed up early for, she was itching to go. It had been a long time since Root had gone to something like this, something that wasn't moderated or run by a committee and she was eager for some unplanned fun.

Sameen was getting dressed. She'd missed the bus and come back late. Root had been getting ready when she came back, but Sameen had called into John's room to tell her that she'd only be a few minutes. It had been nearly fifteen now.

A loud thumping told Root that Sameen was coming down the stairs and Root nervously smoothed her gloved hand down the front of her dress. She'd worn one of her favorite dresses, wanting to make a good impression on Sameen's friends. She'd even curled her hair, pinning it up carefully.

It might have been because she was so nervous to go to an event like this, where everyone would be drunk and yelling. She used to ride her bike out of town to go bet on horses, but it had been a while. The curls had kept her preoccupied, but let her mind wander to the memory of sitting behind Sameen on her motorcycle.

The door to Sameen's stairs opened and she came bounding out into the entryway. She looked great, her worn leather jacket and dark blue button down making her look handsome. Looking around at Root, Sameen sighed loudly, her shoulders slumping.

"You can't wear that," Sameen said, gesturing up and down at Root's dress. "You look too nice."

Root looked down at herself, lifting a foot to look at her black heels. "Shouldn't I look nice? I wanted to make a good impression."

"That will make the worst impression." Sameen brushed her hand over her hair. "Do you have jeans? Or any pants?"

"No," Root answered. "I have my pajama pants, but they're at my apartment."

Sameen sighed dramatically, and walked back to the stairs. "Come on. I can lend you something."

Root blushed, her face heating up as she imagined sliding into Sameen's pants. She hadn't worn jeans since she was sixteen, half a lifetime ago. Sameen disappeared up the stairs and Root tossed her purse onto the table by the door and followed after her.

"Will your pants fit me?" Root asked, watching the way Sameen filled out her jeans. "You're...curvier than I am."

Samen glanced down at her with a smirk and a cocked eyebrow. "Have you been studying my curves?"

Root's blush deepened, but she didn't look away from Sameen. "It's hard not to notice."

Licking her lips, Sameen looked away, opening the door at the top of the stairs and stepping out into the hallway. Root followed, her question not answered. They hurried down the hall to Sameen's room.

Walking in, Root looked around. It was in the same state of mess that it had been on May Day. Clothing was piled on the floor, seemingly on purpose, and her desk was scratched and scorched from work. Root dropped onto the bed and started unclasping her shoes.

"I think you'll fit into these," Sameen said, pulling out a pair of jeans from the bottom drawer of her dresser. "I have to fold the legs a few times and they're a little tight. I'll get you a belt."

She tossed the jeans onto the bed and moved to the closet. Sliding the door open, she revealed several belts hanging from the top rod and various button down shirts hanging open beside them. Root craned her neck around Sameen to see dress pants on the lower rod. Quickly choosing a brown belt, Sameen closed the door.

Tossing her shoes onto the floor, Root moved her hands up to the top of her stockings. It was getting to be a habit of hers, taking off her silk stockings around Sameen. She'd grown comfortable being in a state of undress when they were together. She shook her head and unclasped both her stockings, steering herself away from thoughts of them undressed together.

As Root rolled her stockings down her legs, she thought about her decision the night before to try and be a little bit wilder. She wanted to reclaim that lost, young part of herself that she'd let go of. Tonight was a great opportunity to let herself go and try new things.

"Alright," Sameen muttered, putting the belt and a white t-shirt that she'd pulled from her dresser onto the bed. "Go ahead and change. I'll wait in the hall."

She started for the door, but Root let her stockings fall to the floor and stood up. "Will you unzip me?" she asked, turning her back to Shaw without waiting for an answer. She swept her hair to the side, exposing the back of her neck and the zipper.

A warm, steady hand came to rest on Root's waist, and then she felt Sameen pulling down her zipper. It came down slowly, and Root could feel every centimeter of cold air that brushed against her revealed skin. She thought she could feel Sameen's hot breath on her back, but her dress was fully undone before she was sure.

Then, Sameen was gone, the door closing quietly. Root took a breath, her lungs filling with air, and let her dress slide off her shoulders, down her legs, and onto the floor. Looking down, she stepped out of the dress and moved to the bed. Running her hands over Sameen's jeans, she realized that she didn't need all of her layers.

Reaching behind herself, she undid her garter belt with deft fingers, not wanting to waste any time. She put it on top of her dress. Next, she opened the clasps on the side of her girdle and let it fall. She picked up the jeans and shook them out in front of her, holding them against her waist.

They seemed like they would fit her, but be a little loose. Sameen was right, a belt would be enough to make it work. Root stepped into them, immediately shivering at the feel of the coarse cloth against her smooth legs. She had grown used to silk stockings and now the denim felt scratchy and foreign.

Pulling the pants up, she pushed the button through the hole with her thumb and zipped it shut. She felt like a different person, the costume making her understand just how much weight she'd put on how she looked and how she was perceived. She wondered what people would think of her in these pants.

Picking up the belt, Root threaded it through the belt loops and pulled it tight. Sameen wasn't that much wider than her, and Root buckled the belt with three holes to go. She reached for the t-shirt and hesitated.

Her bra was really restricting, acting almost like a corset. With a shirt like that, she didn't need the shaping. Could she go without? She was fairly flat-chested, and the shirt was baggy and made of a thick, blue cotton that wouldn't show off her shape.

She should ask Sameen, she thought. The question would have an added benefit of showing herself off to Sameen in a casual way. Grinning, she walked to the door and pulled it open.

The hallway was empty, but a second later, Sameen stepped out of the guestroom. Her eyes dropped to Root's chest, lingering for a moment before looking away. She stuck her hands in her pockets.

"I, uh, gave you a shirt. Didn't I?"

"I was wondering if I needed to wear a bra," Root replied. "I think I could get away without one."

The tips of Sameen's ears turned red and she glanced at Root's chest again, before blinking and tilting her head up to look at the ceiling. "Uh. Sure. You don't have to. I guess. Do whatever you want."

Root smiled, her lips slowly curling up as she watched Sameen avoid her gaze. Turning her back to Sameen again, she lifted her hair. "Mind doing me again?"

She heard Sameen choke, but a moment later, her hands were on the back of Root's bra. Her fingers stumbled over the small hooks, practiced, but not comfortable. Root held her hands against the front of her bra, not wanting to end up naked. It was one thing to flirt and push Sameen's buttons and another to just end up nude.

Root listened to Sameen's breathing, shaky and shallow. Hearing Sameen so affected made Root's heart pound. Suddenly, Root felt nervous. Sameen was so close to her, and was taking her time opening every clasp, and it was making Root feel very visible for the first time in a long time.

Sameen undid the last clasp and opened Root's bra, brushing her hands against Root's back. It felt wonderful and soft, the calluses on Sameen's palms and fingertips smoothing the indents the corset had left in Root's sensitive skin. Root sucked in a shaking breath.

"You have so many freckles," Sameen murmured, her fingers pressing into a spot on Root's back. "Like stars."

Root's eyes fluttered, her heart in her throat. "My mother called them angel kisses."

"That's nice." Sameen cleared her throat. "You're good. Go get dressed. We're going to be late."

Nodding, Root walked back into Sameen's bedroom, closing the door and leaning against it. She let her bra fall forward to the floor. Sameen's hands had felt right against Root's skin, like they belonged there. She didn't know how much longer she could go without throwing herself at Sameen.

Sighing, Root pushed herself off the door and picked up the shirt from the bed. She put it on, putting her arms through the holes and pulling it over her head. It dropped down heavily, dwarfing her with its size. She tucked it into her jeans as best she could, and rolled the sleeves up to the middle of her bicep.

The thick cloth brushed against her chest, feeling foreign like the rest of her. Nothing she was wearing was hers, and she felt like an alien in her own body. It felt good. She felt invincible in her new clothing, in Sameen's armor. Root grinned and opened the door again.

"What about shoes?" she asked. "I only have heels and slippers."

Sameen pushed past her into the room, looking annoyed. Root watched as she opened the closet and pulled out a pair of scuffed, brown boots. She held them out for Root.

"Here."

Root took them and Sameen pulled socks from her dresser, handing those to Root, too. It only took her a moment to put them on, and then the two of them were heading back down the stairs. She'd left her clothing on the floor in Sameen's room, hoping that it would give her an excuse to go back later in the evening.

When they got to the entryway, Root picked up her purse, but Sameen took it from her, opening it and pulling out Root's wallet and keys. She shoved the keys at Root, who had to catch them before they fell.

"Pockets," Sameen grunted as she tossed the purse back onto the table and opened Root's wallet. "Having a purse is asking to be robbed."

"Always?" Root asked, putting her keys in her front pocket. "Or at things like this?"

Sameen pulled out the cash Root had, looking impressed. "Always, but even more at 'things like this'." She took out Root's ID card and then put the wallet on the table. It was too long to fit into a pocket. "Here. You're buying drinks tonight."

Root laughed, taking the money and card and tucking it away. "I thought you were the gentleman in this relationship."

Something passed through Sameen's eyes, and she frowned. "You're wearing the pants now."

Knowing that Sameen was sensitive about being poorer than her friends, Root sighed. She reached out and took Sameen's hands, stepping closer.

"Thank you," Root said, "for taking me out tonight. I've already had more fun than I have in a while. Drinks will be my payment for the good time."

Sameen raised an eyebrow, the shadow disappearing. "You know, there's a word for women who get paid for showing people a good time."

"Interesting," Root said, releasing one of Sameen's hands to tap her chin. "I think I'm too delicate of a lady to know what it is."

Snorting, Sameen pulled her hand away and turned to the door. "I'm starting to realize just how unladylike you are."

"Good," Root laughed, following Sameen out into the night and closing the door behind her. "You can tell your friends that so they like me."

"Just be yourself. You're annoyingly likeable."

Root felt warm, and it had nothing to do with the mid-May heat. She smiled to herself as they headed down the walkway to where Sameen parked her motorcycle. The neighborhood was quiet around them, only the sounds of cicadas filling the air and making the night hum. Root ran a hand through her hair, fingers catching on the pins she'd stuck in to hold it together.

"One second," she said as Sameen swung her leg over the bike. "I'm going to let my hair down."

She started yanking pins out, just throwing them to the ground. If she was going to be wild tonight and try to feel like her old self, then she needed to commit. It was too late to take her make-up off, but she didn't have to have perfect hair. She threw the last pin to the ground.

Sameen was looking at her with wide eyes. Root shook her hair out. It was pretty long, tumbling over her shoulders to brush against the top of her breasts, still curly from the hairspray. She felt light and free.

"What do you think?" Root asked, putting a hand on her hip and posing. "Do I look wild and carefree?"

"You look-" Sameen cleared her throat. "You look good."

Root grinned and hurried over to the bike. She put a hand on Sameen's shoulder to balance as she climbed onto the motorcycle. Making sure to scoot as close as possible to Sameen, pressing their whole bodies together, Root settled in.

Sameen started the motorcycle and it roared to life beneath them, shattering the silence of the neighborhood. Root put her hands on Sameen's hips, sliding them around the front and clinging to her. She lifted her feet onto the footrests.

"No helmets?" she asked over the engine.

"A night like this should be experienced!" Sameen answered. "I'll keep you safe."

"You'd better," Root murmured, resting her chin on Sameen's shoulder. "I trust you."

With that, Sameen lifted the kickstand with her foot and pulled away from the curb. They raced out of the neighborhood in the opposite direction of the city. Root could feel the wind whipping her loose hair back and up, tangling it and tugging the curls out. She could also feel Sameen breathing inside the circle of her arms.

The night was beautiful. As they moved away from the city and the houses, the stars became clear and bright. She looked up, feeling small under the blanket of sky, but feeling like she was a part of that, too. Like she was a part of something important.

Root rested her cheek on Sameen's shoulder, and let her lips brush against Sameen's neck. This is what she'd been imagining for ages, just the two of them on a bike in the night. There were still layers between them, Root's shirt, Sameen's jacket, Sameen's shirt, but they felt closer than ever before.

It was romantic to race through the night like this, and Root could finally understand what all those girls in high school talked about. Even though she was the one clinging to Sameen, she felt safe and protected. There was someone leading her forward, someone who supported her and thought she was smart and beautiful. Someone who could bring her new experiences.

The trip probably took about half an hour, but to Root it felt like seconds. Maybe she could ask Sameen to just drive her around one night. Maybe Root could learn to drive the bike. The thought of Sameen holding on to her made her feel light-headed.

They slowed down as they approached a parking lot, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. It was loud, engines and screaming audible over the roar of the motorcycle. Root sat back as Sameen guided the bike to a parking lot.

She hadn't been sure what to expect when Sameen had told her about a dirt track and amateur racing, but this hadn't been it. This event was a full production. There were light towers illuminating the whole area, a tall chain link fence surrounding the entire area, booths were set up selling beer and greasy food. Root smiled, thinking it seemed like a much more interesting version of their May Day picnic.

Turning the car off, Sameen looked over her shoulder. "You ok?"

"I'm more than ok," Root laughed. She scooted backwards and slid off the bike. "I'm excited!"

Sameen chuckled, amused, and pushed the kickstand down. "I hope you liked that beer we had at the picnic, because it's the only thing they'll be serving."

"I'll survive." Root moved back so Sameen could get off the bike, gravel crunching under her borrowed boots. "I don't think I'll be drinking too much anyway."

Shaking her head, Sameen started for the small gap in the fence, confidently striding across the gravel. It was a little harder for Root to get her footing. She hadn't been out without heels on in a while, much less on unpaved ground like this. Her boots slipped through the loose, rocky ground and it made her think of her childhood.

It was a little odd how suddenly everything made her feel young again. Maybe it was because she was letting herself feel things that she hadn't since she was a teenager. Maybe it was because she was going to places that "ladies" didn't go, like she used to. Whatever the reason, she was happy.

They got to the gate and Sameen slipped through, then waited on the other side for Root. Once they were inside, Root looked around eagerly. There was an area between them and the track that had probably been grass at one point, but now it was mostly dirt. People milled around them, talking in groups and buying food and drinks from the tents.

The people around them were a rough and tumble crowd. Everyone seemed to have tattoos, and everyone's clothing was torn and self-tailored. She grinned at Sameen, taking her arm.

"This is great!" Root said to her, lowering her voice so she didn't attract attention. "Everyone is so cool!"

Sameen just snorted and pulled her arm from Root's. "Be cool," she said, crossing her arms. "We're not at home."

The comment hurt a little bit, but she could understand. This was Sameen's space and Root was a guest. At the house, they could relax, but Sameen apparently worked hard to maintain a reputation with her friends. Root was going to do her best to fit in.

Spotting her friends, Sameen started toward them. Root followed along, adjusting the waistband of her jeans. She was nervous now that she'd remembered that this was a space that wasn't made for her. It was familiar to her, in a distant way, but now she was part of a different class and just like Sameen, she'd cultivated a personality. It had never been part of her plan, but it'd been necessary to be taken seriously. Now, people were taking her seriously and she almost wished they weren't.

As they got closer, Root recognized Joss and the man who had been with them when she'd run into them on the street. She realized that he was probably a homosexual, too, even though he looked so normal. She looked normal, too, Root thought, and she was learning that anyone could like anyone.

"Hey!" Joss greeted. "Glad you could make it."

Sameen stopped in front of them, nodding. "Yeah. I need to win my ten dollars back from Peter."

The man, Fusco, Root remembered, laughed. "You're never going to get that back. Collier is tricky. I don't know what it is, but he's sneaky."

"I'm sneaky, too," Sameen answered, putting her hands on her hips, "and I'm going to get my money back. I think that poker game was rigged."

Joss smirked. "That's what you say every time. You've got the best poker face on the planet, but that doesn't matter if you're always hiding bad cards."

Clicking her tongue, Sameen shuffled her feet in the dirt. She looked around. "It's the usual crowd, I see. Not particularly exciting."

Root stood at Sameen's side, feeling out of place and ignored. Wanting to fidget nervously, but not having gloves to tug on, she shoved her hands in her pockets, suddenly understanding why Sameen did it all the time. Root picked at the seam, giving herself something to do.

She stared at the floor, digging her toe into the dirt as the three of them talked. She'd been looking forward to spending time with Sameen and her friends, but they seemed content to talk amongst themselves. If she knew anyone else here, or anything about racing, she would have joined in.

"Root?"

Root snapped her head up, looking at the three of them. They all looked at her expectantly, and she blushed. She pulled her hands out of her pockets.

"Sorry," she apologized. "I wasn't listening."

Fusco and Joss looked unimpressed, but Sameen smiled at her.

"Do you want a drink?" Sameen asked her, jerking her thumb at a tent. "I can grab us some beer."

"Oh, sure!" Root grinned. "Are there kinds? Or…"

Sameen rolled her eyes, but looked amused. "Stay here."

Root watched her walk away, walking into a crowd of people and disappearing. She turned back to Joss and Fusco, smiling.

"So," she said, pushing her hair behind her ear, "how have you been?"

"Why are you here?" Fusco demanded, squinting suspiciously. "What's your game?"

"My game?" Root repeated, confused.

Joss put a hand on Fusco's shoulder, looking sympathetic. "Sorry, he's a bit of a brute. We just want to know why you'd come to something like this. Isn't it a little…"

"Lower class?" Fusco said, still frowning. "Fancy ladies like you go to picnics and dances. At least, that's what we've heard."

Root's heart sank, and she swallowed. "I wanted to come to this. I used to go to stuff like this when I was younger, and… I was kind of missing it? And Sameen invited me."

Joss looked surprised. "She did?"

"Yeah," Root confirmed. "She asked me to come along while she was over at my apartment last night."

They exchanged a look. Fusco crossed his arms, somehow squinting even harder. Joss just looked thoughtful, shifting to rest her elbow on Fusco.

"You used to come to stuff like this?" she asked. "You seem too clean for that."

"I wasn't always 'clean'," Root said, shrugging. "I kind of...lost my way, even as I was finding it. So, I'm trying to get back to my roots. Sameen is helping. I think."

Fusco scratched his chin. "And you and Sameen… Are you guys a thing?"

Root blushed, feeling her face heat up. "Uh," she stuttered, "we're not- We haven't- It's-"

"Alright, calm down," Joss chuckled. "I think we get the picture. Don't worry. We won't tell."

"Maybe you won't," Fusco said. He grunted when Joss smacked the back of his head. "Jeez, ok! I won't tell. Christ." He fixed his gaze on Root. "But if you're just messing around, visiting with us poor folk before heading back up to your ivory tower, if you do anything to fuck her up… I will kill you."

His tone and the way his eyes glinted in the harsh, artificial lighting made Root believe him. She nodded, holding her hands up. She wasn't just 'messing around,' she was serious about her feelings for Sameen and serious about wanting to find herself again.

"I promise," she said as sincerely as possible. "I'm not just...I don't know, experimenting. I know who I am. I'm just trying to get back to that."

"And who are you, Root?" Joss asked, her gaze hard and direct.

What a question, Root thought, sighing. She just shrugged helplessly, trying to think of something to say. There were a lot of things that she was. She was an engineer. She was an avid reader. She was an inventor. She was a woman. She was...a dyke.

"I'm a little wild," she said aloud. "I think. I was. No, I am."

Fusco and Joss laughed, finding her answer hilarious. They kept laughing as she just stood there watching them, not sure what she'd said that was so funny. After a moment, she crossed her arms, starting to get annoyed.

"What?" she demanded. "What's so funny?"

Joss wiped her eyes. "It's just… you look so out of place in that- I mean, it's a costume. You're so delicate and ladylike and you're calling yourself wild."

"You're not wild," Fusco chuckled, calming down. "Come on, you've got a cushy office job, and you live in a fancy suburban house."

"I have an apartment in the city," Root said weakly, knowing that the argument didn't hold water. Her determination to be wild and bold was waning. She refused to be embarrassed, sticking to her plan to be bold. "You can think what you want, but I stand by what I said."

Joss gave her an appraising look, crossing her arms. "Then prove it."

"Prove it?"

"Yeah," Fusco snorted. "Show us you aren't as uptight as you seem."

Root hesitated not sure what to do. They were certainly in a place where wild things happened, but what was she supposed to do? Climb into a car and race? Sameen sauntered up to them, carrying two cans of beer.

"Sorry that took so long," she said. "The line was- what?"

Snatching a can of beer from Sameen's hand, Root pulled her keys out of her pocket and stuck one into the side of the can. She tilted her head back, latching her mouth onto the hole, and swallowing down the beer as it spurted out. It ran down the sides of her mouth and her chin, but she just focused on drinking.

When the flow slowed and the can started to compress, Root popped the tab, opening the beer and letting air flow in. She crushed the can with her hand as she took big gulps. When it was done, she slammed the can onto her head, flattening it, and winced.

"Ow," she mumbled, dropping the can to rub her forehead. "I forgot how much that hurt."

She tucked her keys back into her pocket and looked at the others. Joss and Fusco were staring at her, looking shocked. Sameen was gazing at her with dark eyes, fingers tight around the other can. Her face was almost unreadable, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She looked like she was in disbelief.

"That..." Sameen started, trailing off. "That was…"

Root winked at her, reaching for the other beer. "I know."

She opened the other can of beer and took a quick sip. In a few minutes, she'd be feeling that first can, but right now, she could enjoy the satisfaction she got from seeing the smug looks wiped off Joss and Fusco's faces. A breeze blew her hair over her shoulders and her chest felt cold.

Looking down, she realized that the beer that had dripped down her chin had dampened the front of her t-shirt. It wasn't see-through, thankfully, but it did cling to her a little bit more. She worried that someone would see her nipples through the fabric, but then decided that if she was embracing her old persona, then she wouldn't care about decency or propriety.

She turned to Sameen. "Where's the tent? I'll buy the next round. Since I took both of these cans." She gave Sameen a small toast. "I think I'm going to be drinking after all, and I don't want to drink alone."

"Yeah," Sameen breathed. She glanced at her friends and then offered her arm to Root. "I'll walk you."

Root took Sameen's arm and they started back towards the drink tents. She knew that she'd probably be embarrassed in the morning, of how drunk she was and how revealing her clothing was, but for now, Root was just enjoying living in the moment. She had the wind in her hair and Sameen by her side.

"So," Sameen said slowly, "what brought on the dramatic drinking?"

"Your friends were making fun of me for being straightlaced," Root answered.

Sameen narrowed her eyes. "Were they?"

"It's fine," she assured her, shrugging. "I mean, they're not wrong, but I'm trying something new."

"Oh yeah?" Sameen asked, her annoyance replaced by amusement. She smiled, raising an eyebrow. "You're 'trying something new'?"

Root nodded, taking another sip of beer. "Yes. I am being bold and free and letting loose! I'm going to say what I want and do what I want."

She slid her eyes down to Sameen, and met her deep, dark stare. Root tried to convey her feelings, tried to ask silently for Sameen to make a move, but Sameen just blinked and looked away. It was disappointing, and Root was starting to wonder if it was up to her to initiate something. She smiled as they stopped in front of the drink tent.

"Two beers please," she said loudly, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her cash, "and whatever else the lady wants."

Sameen groaned. "I want to die."

Laughing, Root pulled out a five dollar bill and handed it to the young man behind the table. "Here," she said, flashing him a smile.

He blushed and took it. "Thanks," he mumbled. Opening the cash box, he put the five in and pulled out four ones. "Just the two beers?"

"Yeah," Sameen answered, pulling two cans of Bud from a cooler of ice on the table. "Thanks."

He handed the four dollars to Root and she just stuck them into a jar labelled 'College Fund.' She turned away, drinking from her beer and starting back towards Joss and Fusco. Sameen followed along.

"That's a big tip," Sameen said, sounding annoyed again. "Four dollars? Four times what you paid."

Root shrugged, her mind already a little foggy from her first beer. "I would have died for a tip like that when I was his age and it's for a college fund!"

Sameen clicked her tongue, shoving one beer into her pocket and opening the other. "That's a lot of money."

"I know," she said. "I can't tip like that again. I only brought $40 and I don't know what else we're doing tonight." She took a few more steps before realizing Sameen had stopped walking. "What?"

A muscle in Sameen's jaw jumped as she clenched her jaw. "Nothing."

"Obviously it's something." Root rolled her eyes. "You can tell me."

"I forgot," Sameen sighed, "just how much more than me you make. I knew it was a lot, but to bring $40 to a thing like this… I mean, that's a week's salary."

Root's stomach dropped as she thought about how it must feel to make almost nothing. She remembered that Sameen still wasn't paying rent, and that she only paid for things when it was just the two of them. Root felt bad for flaunting her wealth.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I didn't mean to throw it in your face. I don't want you to think that I'm reckless with my money. Or that I'm just… I don't know, slumming for fun. I wanted to spend time with you somewhere that wasn't so strict, where I could be myself. I can go. If you want me to."

Sameen stared at her with hard eyes, boring into Root's own. Root remembered their conversation the first time they went to the movies. Sameen had thought Root came from wealth, that her whole life had been easy and free. It hadn't been, but Root knew that her world was a far cry from the home she'd left at seventeen.

The same thing that Root was trying to move away from, her ladylike persona and her dependence on being seen as normal, was something that Sameen had never given in to. Root had followed Sameen to this race track chasing something that she'd lost, but she was so far from it now. Maybe it wouldn't be possible to go back after all.

It seemed like Sameen was going to tell Root to leave. Root would, if Sameen asked her to. They had hardly spent any time together and Root had had big plans, but she'd do what Sameen asked. After a moment, Sameen blinked and she looked away.

"Forget about it," Sameen said, shrugging. "I'm...jealous. I guess. I'd tip every kid 400% too, if I could."

Taking a deep breath, Root tried to smile. "Yeah."

Glancing at her, Sameen rolled her eyes and reached out to push Root's shoulder. "Don't start crying. Jesus. I'm not mad. I'm just going to make you pay for everything now."

Root laughed, feeling herself start to relax. "Deal. I throw in my apartment," she joked, "whenever you want to stay in the city. So you don't have to worry about taking the wrong bus home."

Sameen's eyes lit up. "That would be amazing."

"Then we're good?" Root asked, fingers tightening around her beer can.

"We're fine," Sameen answered, toasting Root with her own beer. "Still friends."

The word made Root's stomach clench, even more than it did before. Root was so tired of being friends, and so ready for more. She took a couple large gulps of her beer.

"Slow down," Sameen warned her. "I don't need you getting trashed and doing something embarrassing."

Lowering her can, Root just grinned at her, started to walk toward their friends again. "I think I've proven myself to Joss and Fusco. They didn't see that coming."

"Jesus," Sameen muttered, falling into line beside Root. "That was kinda hot."

Root preened, shoving her free hand into her pocket. "It was very hot," she corrected. "Don't sell me short."

"You're right," Sameen conceded, looking at Root out of the corner of her eye. "You're very hot."

Heart pounding, Root blushed, thankful for the semi-darkness. "You too," she breathed, looking back at Sameen. "Always."

Sameen winked at her before turning her attention forward to their friends. She jogged forward, leaving Root to follow behind. The compliment had made Root feel warm, and her own response made her feel brave. Maybe she really could be bold tonight.

The rest of the night seemed to fly by, and by the time the racing was over, Root was drunk, hanging onto Sameen's shoulders and grinning like an idiot. She'd tried to pay attention to the cars, but after a few drinks, they'd started to make her feel dizzy. She rarely drank anymore and she'd been trying to keep up with the others all night.

Sameen was a little drunk, too, although she'd stopped drinking the first time Root had lost her balance. Joss and Fusco were much nicer to her after her stunt, and they'd even been kind enough to explain the racing rules to her. None of the information had made it through the fog in her brain.

They were walking back toward the parking lot now, surrounded by other people leaving, Root clinging to Sameen's arm. A breeze blew around them and Root shivered dramatically. Letting go of Sameen, she walked through the small gap in the fence and out onto the gravel, her boots crunching loudly.

"Wait," Sameen mumbled, making Root turn around and sway unsteadily. "Here."

She pulled her leather jacket off, holding it out for Root to take. Root did, marveling at the soft, supple leather. Pushing her arms through it, Root felt her weight shift and took a couple short steps backwards to catch herself.

The jacket was warm inside, making Root moan softly at the comforting feel. The sleeves were a little bit short, but the body was bulky and wide. She burrowed deep into it and smiled lazily at Sameen.

"Thanks."

Sameen shrugged, her face screwed up in an adorable frown. "Whatever."

"Hey," Joss said, joining them out in the parking lot, "are you good to drive? You can put your bike on the back of my truck, if you want. I can drive you two home."

Root turned away, walking slowly back to Sameen's bike. She was fine with anything and couldn't bring herself to care about a practical discussion. Tilting her head back, she looked at the sky, sad that she couldn't see the stars. As she thought that, the stadium lights turned off with loud thuds and the stars were suddenly clear above her.

It had been a long time since she could see the stars like this and it made her want to cry, her chest tightening. She missed Texas. For the first time in years, she missed her shitty hometown and the way she could always see the stars, no matter what. She missed sleeping out on top of train cars and in tall trees on the edge of town. It hurt to think that she might be trapped in this city forever.

"Root?" Sameen called. "We're taking Joss' truck."

Root sniffed, wiping her face quickly, and looked back at the two of them. "Ok!"

She watched as Joss and Sameen walked over to an old pick-up truck and dropped the back of the bed down. They pulled down a ramp. Root pulled the collar of the jacket up over her face, breathing in Sameen's smell, as Sameen pushed her motorcycle up the ramp and into the back of the car, carefully lowering it down onto its side.

She hurried down the ramp, just a little unsteady. Joss folded the ramp up again and they shut the bike away. Root walked to them, dropping her arms to hang at her side. She smiled at Sameen as she pulled the door open.

"Skinniest in the center," Sameen said, nodding for Root to climb in. "Go on."

Root smiled at her, and climbed into the truck, grateful again to be wearing pants. She didn't have to worry about protecting her modesty. The hard leather seats were cracked and patched and very uncomfortable, but Root settled into the middle, not bothering to look for a seatbelt.

Joss opened her door and got into the car on Root's left. She gave Root a quick smile before starting the car. On Root's right, Sameen dropped into the seat. Once the doors were shut, they started out of the parking lot and back onto the road toward the city.

They sat in companionable silence for most of the drive, content to think their own thoughts. Root looked at Sameen, taking in the way the moonlight accentuated her high cheekbones. She was beautiful, effortlessly handsome and regal. Root wanted to say something to her, to tell her what she thought. The alcohol emboldening her, Root opened her mouth.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Root asked. She turned to Joss. "Both of you, I guess."

"Uh, sure?" Joss answered, keeping her eyes on the road.

"I think…" Root trailed off. "It's a big secret."

Sameen rested her elbow on the edge of the window and scooted in her seat, so she was facing Root. "A big secret, huh? Don't tell us something that will get you in trouble at work."

Root snorted. "It won't. Well, it will, but only if you tell."

"We won't," Joss laughed. "We don't know anybody."

"The problem with secrets," Root sighed, wrapping the jacket around her tightly, "is that once you say them outloud, they aren't secrets anymore. Once they're in the world, they can hurt you."

Sameen frowned, eyes sharp. "Root…"

"I just need to say it," Root announced loudly. "I...like...women."

The silence in the car was deafening. Only the sound of asphalt under rubber filled the car. Root looked between Joss and Sameen, but they were both staring out the windshield at the night. She cleared her throat.

"I've always known," Root said. "Since I was young, but… I didn't think that it was possible. I thought I was just broken. That I would get over it and start liking men, instead, but that never happened. I was just lying to myself."

She looked down at her lap, lacing and unlacing her fingers. When she'd started to talk, she'd felt so brave, but now that they were so close to home, she felt nervous. Sameen wasn't responding and this was really for her.

"I kind of thought that nothing would ever happen. That I just would never be happy, but…" She looked at Sameen, who was still avoiding her gaze. "Then I met you and you're so amazing. I've never had someone affect me so strongly. I feel like I'm on fire whenever I'm near you and I can't stop thinking about you."

"You're drunk," Sameen croaked, waving a hand dismissively. "You don't know what you're saying."

"Sameen! I do!" Root twisted around to face her. "I've wanted to tell you for so long. I just didn't know how." The car turned and she looked out the window to see that they'd just turned onto their street. "I really like you, Sameen."

The car stopped and Sameen was out of the car before Root could blink. She started to follow when a hand caught her arm, holding her in place. When she turned, Joss was looking at her with sympathetic eyes.

"Root," she said, "don't do this unless you're sure. There's no taking it back."

Pulling her arm out of Joss' grasp, Root just smiled at her. "Thank you. But I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

She moved to the edge of the seat and climbed down out of the car, shutting the door behind her. Sameen was walking her bike down the ramp. She parked it in front of the house, before turning back to the ramp and starting to fold it.

She wasn't looking at Root, but her face was pulled down into a deep frown. Root wanted to say something else, tell Sameen again. She wanted to hold her close and kiss her until they fell in love.

Sameen shut the back of the truck bed and Joss pulled back out into the street. Pushing past Root, Sameen started down the walkway to the house, Root trailing along behind her. When they got to the door, Sameen took her keys out of her pocket, quickly finding the right one and pushing it into the lock.

Root stepped close, crowding Sameen's back, and put her hands on Sameen's waist, tugging her just slightly so that they were pressed together. She was sad that she'd missed the chance to hold Sameen close on the ride back. Being flush against her now was making up for it.

"Sameen," Root murmured, dipping her head to brush her lips against a soft ear. "Look at me."

Jerking her head away, Sameen opened the door and stepped out of Root's grasp into the house, throwing her keys onto the side table. Root followed, leaning back against the door to shut it. She locked it without looking, her eyes falling half shut as she gazed at Sameen's back.

Sameen looked like a statute, illuminated only by the light above the entryway, the rest of the house pitch black. She stood still, but Root could see her body vibrating with tension. Root took a few steps forward, toward her, her steps loud in the silent house. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears.

"Sameen," Root said again, almost at a whisper. "Look at me."

Her head turned half way, before stopping. Sameen's eyes were shut, like she couldn't stand to look at Root. After a moment, she looked away again and walked to the stairway. They'd left the door open and it only took a second for Sameen to disappear.

In her absence, Root felt cold. She was sure that just saying it out loud would be enough. That she would give Sameen permission and Sameen would take over, guide her, control the situation, but she'd been rejected. Now, Root stood, alone, wearing Sameen's leather jacket, her pants, her shirt, and felt like crying.

The alcohol was making her head spin, and she couldn't grasp any concrete thoughts. She just knew that her whole body was humming, desperate for Sameen to touch her. It would feel like death to go sleep in the bed she always had, lay next to the person she had for years, admit defeat.

A soft thumping made her realize her eyes were closed. She opened them, and saw Sameen standing in the doorway. She looked conflicted, her mouth drawn down in a frown, her eyebrows low over her eyes, her eyes dark.

"Come on," she muttered. "We're not going to do this out here."

Turning away, she didn't wait for Root to follow. Sucking in a deep breath, feeling the life return to her, Root hurried to the stairs and started up them. Sameen was already only a few steps from the top and Root tried to run up after her. She tripped, landing hard on her knees and gasping in pain.

Taking a couple deep breaths, she looked up and saw Sameen standing above her, mouth twisted as she tried to hide an amused smile. She reached a hand down and Root took it, climbing to her feet.

"Don't kill yourself," Sameen said quietly. She gave Root a once over and turned away again. "Be careful, drunky."

"I'm not that drunk," Root lied as they started up the stairs again. "Just… not sober."

Sameen snorted. She stepped out into the hallway and turned to wait for Root. She still looked conflicted. Running a hand through her hair, she walked to her bedroom. Root followed, her arms swinging at her sides and her whole body vibrating with excitement.

They were going to Sameen's bedroom and that was definitely a good sign. She grinned, following Sameen into the room and shutting the door behind herself. Taking a deep breath, she closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around Sameen's shoulders and pulling her close.

"Root," Sameen muttered, turning her head to avoid Root's mouth. "Not while you're this drunk. Come on."

"Sameen," Root sighed, pushing her nose into Sameen's neck and breathing her in. "I know what I want and it's you."

Sameen groaned, her hands coming up to rest on Root's hips. "I want you, too."

Brushing her lips against Sameen's ear, Root smiled. "Then have me."

The grip on her waist tightened, and Sameen pushed her backward against the door with a thud. She glared up at Root, eyes just a little bit unfocused. Root's head swam from the sudden movement, trying to look at Sameen clearly and remember the moment.

Sameen was so close to her, and Root felt like she was burning up. She licked her lips, hands trailing across Sameen's shoulders to her neck. She felt her head dip down, eyes fluttering. The alcohol was making her tired, but she fought to stay awake.

"Kiss me," Root mumbled. "I want you to kiss me."

Sameen's hands ran over the front of Root's t-shirt, making her shiver and shake. Root groaned at the simple contact, already overwhelmed. Her eyes felt heavy, but she widened them, trying to prove to Sameen that she was ready and willing.

"I can't," Sameen whispered even as her hands untucked Root's shirt. "You're dating my best friend."

"I don't care about him," Root mumbled, her hands gently cupping the back of Sameen's neck. "I care about you."

Sameen clenched her jaw, hands spreading on Root's stomach. "You're so drunk."

"So are you."

Getting impatient, Root grabbed the front of Sameen's shirt and ripped it open. Buttons clattered as they hit the ground and Sameen stumbled backward. She gaped at Root, shocked, and took the open edges of her shirt in her hands.

"Oh my god."

Root grinned. "You aren't wearing a bra either."

"I usually wrap myself," Sameen mumbled.

She looked up at Root with dark eyes, dropping her shirt and closing the distance between them again. She yanked the leather jacket down Root's arms. Root tried to help her, wiggling and grabbing at her sleeves to pull them off. She needed to feel Sameen's skin against her own.

The jacket finally came off and Sameen tossed it to the floor without a care. She pressed herself to Root, only thin layers separating them now. Root whimpered, clutching at Sameen's face, her mouth open, breathing hard. Sameen's fingers dug into Root's sides as they breathed inches apart.

Sameen was still tense, and when Root tried to kiss her, she pulled away. Whimpering, Root tried again, but Sameen turned her head, sighing.

"We can't," Sameen said, sounding angry. She scoffed and let go of Root, moving out of her reach and walking to her desk. "I don't want it like this."

"Sameen-"

A loud thud startled Root as Sameen slammed her fist down on her desk. She spun around to glare at Root.

"I'm not going to fuck you while you're trashed," Sameen bit out. "You deserve more than some sloppy fumbling. You're worth more than that."

"I'm really not," Root argued, crossing the room to Sameen. "I don't care about that."

Sameen brushed past her, their shoulders brushing together. She opened the door to her room, and turned around to look at Root, conflicted and angry. She gestured out the door.

"Get out. Go to sleep."

Anger welled up in Root's stomach and she scowled. "If I'm not good enough for you, just say it," she spat. "If you don't want to sleep with me, then just say it."

"It's not that," Sameen said. "I do. I just- I don't want you to wake up and regret this. I don't want to ruin our friendship."

"You'll sleep with Matthew Reed at the drop of a hat, but you won't even kiss me?" Root asked, the anger leaving her and exhaustion replacing it. "Why won't anyone love me?"

Sameen's face softened, her whole body slumping as the anger left her. She let go of the door and walked to Root, taking her hands and looking up at her with kind eyes. Sameen's mouth turned up with the ghost of a smile.

"I'm not saying no because I don't love you," Sameen said. "I'm saying no because… Because you're too good for something like this. Someone like me."

She started walking backward, pulling Root along with her. They walked like that out of the room and into the hallway. Sameen looked away to open the door to the guest room, and led Root in.

The room was dark, and cool from being shut all day. It calmed Root down, and she tried to think about Sameen's words, but her drunk fog was finally getting the better of her. She let Sameen undo her belt and her pants, pulling them down. Root stepped out of them, too tired to even be happy that Sameen was undressing her.

"It's ok," Sameen said, almost whispering. "You'll feel better in the morning."

She pulled back the blanket on the bed, and let Root sit down. Root looked up at her with tired, watery eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, but was asleep before she could even start.

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Root took a large gulp of her coffee, swallowing down the hot liquid and wincing. She'd woken up with a terrible headache, her whole body in pain. Apparently, she couldn't handle her alcohol anymore the way she had when she was seventeen. She dropped her head back onto the cushion of the breakfast bar.

Staring at the ceiling, she thought about the night before. She had drank too much and given herself away. Sameen had been a gentleman, though. Root smirked. A gentlewoman. She wished that they had kissed, if only so she didn't feel so terrible today. So that they would be out of this weird purgatory.

Now that she'd told Sameen the truth, Root wasn't sure what to do. Should she stand by what she'd said and pursue Sameen for real? Or should she pretend that she didn't remember what happened, that she was so drunk she couldn't remember anything? Both options made her stomach hurt.

She straightened up just as Sameen walked into the kitchen. Noticing her, Sameen stopped walking, looking at her impassively. Root gave her a small smile and picked up her cup of coffee.

"Morning," she mumbled, lifting her mug to her lips. She took a quick sip and put it down again. "You're up late."

"I'm taking my bike in," Sameen answered. "Takes half the time."

Root nodded and then winced as her head protested. "I took the day off."

At that, Sameen smiled, crossing her arms. "You get too wild? You're not a teenager anymore."

Root hesitated and then sighed. "I can't remember much from last night," she said, lying. "I remember… standing in the parking lot, but nothing after that. I woke up in the guestroom."

She looked away so she didn't have to see if Sameen believed her or not. The lie made her stomach turn. She felt sick and ashamed for lying, but she didn't know if she could handle Sameen rejecting her again. It had hurt so much the first time.

"Oh," Sameen said quietly. "Nothing?"

Steeling herself, she looked up at Sameen. Their eyes met and she saw a flicker of something in Sameen's eyes, but she blinked as it disappeared. Sameen shrugged and walked to the coffee pot.

"Now you know what being wild actually feels like," Sameen joked, her voice sounding odd. "Headaches, body aches, stomach aches. Being over thirty is hard."

Root laughed half-heartedly. "Yeah," she mumbled. "It's hard."

Sameen pulled a mug down from the cabinet. She started to put it down, but hesitated. Looking at Root, she tapped the mug on the counter.

"Can I say something… personal?" Sameen asked, frowning. "About something you said last night?"

Root tensed, but she nodded.

"You said that you liked women," Sameen told her. "Is that...still true?"

"It is," Root answered. She wrapped her hands around her mug, warming them. "Although, I don't think I'm ready to announce it like you do."

Sameen shrugged. "I understand. It doesn't even matter really if you're with Reese."

Root's heart sank, and she swallowed hard. Thinking about John was upsetting now. She could avoid a decision about him when she was keeping her feelings to herself, but she'd said it outloud and that made it real. What was she going to do about him?

"I was going to say that you should come to the Black Cherry sometime." Sameen poured coffee into her mug. "I know Zoe warned you against it, but I promise it's not that seedy."

She put the carafe back into the machine and turned to Root, leaning her hip against the counter. Root smiled weakly at her, her head pounding. She was having a hard time processing everything that was happening.

"Can I think about it?" Root asked her. "I want to, but I… I just need some time to think."

"Sure." Sameen took a sip of coffee. "It'll be there whenever you want it."

Root was starting to feel like she'd gotten ahead of herself, and tried to change too fast. She wasn't the girl she used to be anymore and all her time trying to be a lady had changed her in ways she hadn't realized. She wanted to find herself again, but right now, her hangover was killing her.

"Ok," Root sighed. She met Sameen's eyes. "Thank you."

Sameen nodded a few times, blowing on her coffee. She looked like she was deep in thought, like she could see straight into Root's brain. "No problem," she said. "I'll be here when you're ready."


	14. High Society

Root stood in the doorway of her office, keeping an eye on everyone that came through. She'd come in early just so she could take note of her employees' hands. Last night, she'd set out her trap, a box of blank punchcards rigged to explode with ink when opened. When she'd got to work, the box was gone.

There was always the possibility that the culprits wouldn't show up, but Fridays were the office's weekly meetings. Mr. Finch attended those, and it would look very bad to be absent. Root tugged on her gloves, nervously, waiting for the door to open again.

The door was around the corner from her office, and when it opened, she stilled. Listening closely, she immediately recognized the voices of Lambert and Leon, her top suspects. They talked quietly as they walked into the main office.

"I couldn't get it off!" Leon failed to whisper. "I don't know what it was, but it won't come off."

Lambert groaned. "We can just say we were replacing a printer cartridge and the ink burst."

"Printer ink comes off," Leon responded. "This is something else."

Root stepped out of the doorway as the two men rounded the corner. "It's India Ink," she told them, smirking, "and a little shellac. It'll come off in a month or so."

The men froze. Lambert looked angry, his hands covered in the ink stain. Leon had gotten more of the splash. His hands were black, too, and he had several splotches on his face. Root grinned, satisfaction filling her. Not only did she find the culprits, but now she had an excuse to fire the two assholes.

"So," she said, crossing her arms, "it was you. Stealing from me when I was working on my own, and now stealing from the company. That's pretty stupid, even for you two."

Lambert sneered at her. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I'm going to fire you," Root answered. She raised an eyebrow. "If you would follow me?"

She turned on her heel and started for Mr. Finch's office, not bothering to check if they were following. The men in the office might not respect her, but they knew she had the boss' ear. Root couldn't hold back a smug smile.

Her work had been delayed for months because Lambert and Leon were stealing her punchcards. She'd had to do the same math so many times on new cards. Even after Harold put their whole office on the project, she was still getting her knees cut out from under her. It was starting to make her look incompetent.

Now, though, they would be fired, and Root could really get the project going. She was so ready to make headway with the project. She'd already talked to Mr. Finch about exploring an acoustic coupler, an upgraded version of telefax devices.

Sameen had actually given her the idea. They'd been talking about HAM Radios and it occurred to Root that if radios existed that allowed two people to communicate, then why couldn't they build one that let two mainframes communicate? Of course, AM Radio waves were inconsistent, so something more like a phone call would be better suited. A way to communicate, over the phone, the tones and beeps of the computers to let them send information over longer distances.

She was very excited to start on the math for that. Especially now that it wasn't going to disappear every night. Root stopped in front of Mr. Finch's office door and looked over her shoulder. Lambert and Leon were behind her, glaring at her back. She flashed her smug smile at them before knocking on Mr. Finch's door.

"Come in!"

Root opened the door, stepping to the side to let Lambert and Leon walk into the room. She was surprised to see Zoe in Mr. Finch's office, but Root could see that she was having him sign some papers. Zoe smiled at her, picking up a piece of paper from his desk.

Root gave her a small wave. She shut the door, figuring if Zoe was handling paperwork, then she was probably authorized to hear about their work for the Department of Defense. Gesturing for the men to sit in Mr. Finch's office chairs, Root turned to him.

"Do you remember my telling you about punchcards going missing?" she asked him, clasping her hands in front of her.

"I do," he answered, turning stiffly to give the men a withering stare. "I presume you've caught them?"

Root smiled again. "I did." She turned to them. "Would you two mind holding your hands up?"

Leon sank down in his seat, but he held his stained hands up for Finch to see. Lambert glared at her, but he held his hands up, too. Root gestured to their hands.

"I rigged a box of blank punchcards to explode and stain whoever tried to open it. Clearly, they're the ones who have been stealing my cards for months now."

Mr. Finch raised an eyebrow at the men. "Do you have anything to say for yourselves?"

"Why does she get to be in charge?" Leon whined. "I know just as much as she does, and I bet I could be a great boss."

Root saw Zoe looking skeptical and felt the same. Leon should have been fired years ago, but Root hadn't had any solid reason to take him to task. She was glad that she'd have two new positions open. Maybe Mr. Finch would let her hire women.

"And you, Mr. Lambert?"

Lambert didn't answer. He just flashed Root his middle finger, the stain taking the wind out of his insult. Sighing, Mr. Finch opened a drawer in his desk. He rifled through file folders and pulled out two sturdy, green folders. From the same folder, he pulled out a pad of pink slips.

"Your firing is immediate," he said, in a tone that allowed for no argument. He spoke as he filled their pink slips out. "Gather your things from your desk and leave the building. I'll call down to the front desk and they'll be taking your badges." Signing the forms, he handed them to Zoe. "Ms. Morgan, would you mind escorting these men to their desks and keeping an eye on what they pack away?"

"Of course, Mr. Finch."

"It's not going to work," Lambert finally said. "Your project for the Department of Defense? Long distance communication between mainframes isn't possible, and you'll never come up with a way to send and receive data like that. I mean, it's ludicrous."

"Thank you for reminding me," Mr. Finch said. "You'll be receiving a visit from the Department very soon."

Lambert scoffed. "Whatever. My father will be hearing about this sorry excuse for a research lab."

Root crossed her arms. "Just because you can't imagine a better future, doesn't mean it isn't possible. A better mathematician would know that."

"Fuck you."

He jumped up from his chair and stormed out, yanking the door open and stomping out into the office. Leon glanced around the room nervously, before following him out. Zoe winked at Root as she left, patting her gently on the shoulder and trailing after the fired men.

"Ms. Groves. A word?"

Root nodded and closed the door again. She crossed the room, sitting in the chair Lambert had just vacated. It made her nervous that Mr. Finch wanted to talk, but she hadn't done anything wrong and he definitely wasn't going to fire her, too.

"Yes, Mr. Finch?" Root asked, crossing her ankles and resting her hands in her lap.

He adjusted his glasses. "Thank you for taking initiative and finding who the thieves were. I'm sorry that I'm not able to be around as much as I would like, but I know that I can trust you to handle the office."

Root blushed, the compliment filling her with pride. "Thank you. I do my best."

"I know," he said, giving her a small smile. "I'm giving you the task of hiring their replacements. You can hire… anyone you think is a good fit."

"Even women?" Root asked, tugging on her gloves.

Mr. Finch gave her a knowing look and nodded. "Yes, Ms. Groves. Even women. In fact, I hope you make an effort to find qualified women who will be an asset to our team."

Grinning, Root stood up. "Of course. I'll only accept the best. Is there anything else?"

"One more thing." He clasped his hands on his desk. "Would you mind inviting Ms. Shaw to dinner tomorrow? We should have invited her ourselves, but I'm sure an invite would be as good from you as it would be from us."

Root laughed, trying to imagine Sameen sitting across from Grace. "I'll bring her along, Mr. Finch."

"Thank you."

Still chuckling, Root left his office, closing the door behind her and starting back toward her own office. Now that she was thinking about Sameen, she wanted to talk to her, and tell her about their victory. They could go to the Black Cherry together.

Root wasn't sure she was ready to admit that she remembered their almost kiss, but she definitely wanted to spend time with Sameen somewhere outside of their bubble. It would be a brand new experience to go to a bar that had homosexuals. That had people like her.

Stopping in front of her office, Root took a deep breath. It still didn't seem real, that her feelings were real, that there were other women who loved women the way she did. It was crazy enough that someone as cool and worldly as Sameen could be interested in her. John was pretty passive and Root thought that any woman with half a mind could have won him over.

Sameen was different, though. She was such an individual, smart and handsome and exciting. Root would kill for just a taste of that. She opened the door to her office. Her datebook had the Hammarland Factory number. She would ask Sameen to take her out.

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Shaw reached forward to pull the door open and turned to smile at Root. The noise from the Black Cherry immediately spilled out into the warm night, washing over them like a summer breeze. Root looked ethereal under the orange light of the streetlamps. She flashed Shaw a nervous grin and stepped into the bar.

Following her in, Shaw let her eyes drift down the back of Root's dress. She'd made her change on Monday night because this look did not work at a late night streetcar race, but, god, it worked everywhere else. Her eyes traced the line down the back of Root's silk stockings, remembering the feel of them under her hands.

For the past week, Shaw had done nothing but imagine what Root looked like under her clothing. The memory of Root in her bathing suit fueled her fantasies at night, and every inch of cloth-covered skin during the day was torture. She didn't want to make a move before Root was ready, and sober, though. If it was going to happen, she wanted it to last.

Letting the door close behind her, Shaw stepped around Root to the bar, smiling as she saw the shocked look on Root's face. During the week, the bar tended to be quieter, emptier, but on a Friday night, everyone poured in. Shaw looked around, noticing how much the women were noticing Root.

Frowning, she reached back to grab Root's hand and pull her forward, further into the bar. Fusco and Joss were in here somewhere, and Shaw could use their help in keeping people away from Root. She weaved her way through the crowd, heading for the very back.

A number of women greeted Root as they passed, and Root greeted them back, cheerfully. The crowd was starting to seem more like a minefield, and Shaw was relieved to see her friends in the booth that was tucked into the far corner. She pushed Root into the seat and waited for her to scoot in before sitting on the end.

"Hello!" Joss said, grinning. She leaned forward across the table. "Shaw told us she might bring you soon, but I had my doubts."

Root shrugged happily, putting her purse onto the table. "I'm here! Is it always this crowded?"

"No," Shaw mumbled, taking the purse off the table and sticking it between them to keep it out of reach. "But of course it is tonight."

"Hi," a voice said from the end of the table, getting their attention. "Can I get you a drink?"

Shaw seethed at the woman, who only had eyes for Root. The woman was attractive, Shaw could concede, her long hair tied up in a bun and her dress fitting her nicely. The glint in her eye as she waited for Root to answer made Shaw hate her.

"That would be-"

"No," Shaw interrupted, glaring at the woman. "You can't."

The woman just raised an eyebrow and walked away. Across the booth, Fusco and Joss chuckled. Shaw just rolled her eyes at them and turned to Root. She frowned when she saw the pout on Root's lips.

"I want a drink," Root said, her hands resting on Shaw's forearm. "Why did you send the waitress away?"

Shaw barked a laugh, covering her eyes with her free hand. Joss and Fusco laughed, too, and she heard Fusco answer.

"That wasn't a waitress," Fusco explained. "She was offering to buy you a drink, so you'd drink with her."

"Oh," Root breathed, her cheeks turning pink. "I see."

Shaw dropped her hand onto the table, her other arm growing warm at Root's touch. "You've been in here for two minutes and you're already getting attention."

Smirking, Root took a hand away to flip her hair over her shoulder. "I always get attention, Sameen."

"Whatever," Shaw snorted. She pulled her arm out of Root's hands and put it on the table. "So, did you guys just come straight here from work?"

Fusco nodded, turning his glass of soda with his fingers. "Yeah, we picked up a pizza and came to stake out a spot. What about you two?"

"We got burgers," Root answered. "It's kind of our thing."

Shaw ignored Joss' pointed glance and crossed her arms. "Root had a big day at work today. She caught two guys stealing and fired them."

"Wow," Joss said, patting Root on the arm across the table. "I wish I had the power to fire people."

"Well, Mr. Finch gave me the green light after he'd heard they were stealing. It felt so good to get those two assholes out of the office." Root took a deep breath. "I think it taught the rest of them not to mess with me."

Shaw bumped her shoulder against Root's. "You're a tough cookie," she joked. "Not to be messed with."

Root winked at her, her face scrunching up. "I'm the scary boss lady."

"Me too," Fusco chimed in. He looked around the room and whistled. "Man, I'm glad we got this table. This joint is jumping."

Joss took a sip of her beer, turning to him. She lowered her glass and gave him a judgmental look. "'This joint is jumping'? I'm sorry, are we still in 1943? Are you seriously quoting Fats Waller?"

"You got a problem with Jazz?" Fusco shot back.

Raising her eyebrows, Joss put her bottle down gently, taking a moment to lick her lips and let the comment sink in. She crossed her arms.

"Do I have a problem with Jazz?" she asked. "Is a white man asking me if I have a problem with Jazz?"

"Christ," Shaw muttered under her breath. She leaned into Root. "I'm going to get us drinks. Enjoy the show."

Root just grinned and settled into her seat. Shaw watched her for one more moment, amused by her enthusiasm, and then slid out of the booth and headed for the bar. It took her a minute to get there. The Black Cherry was a small bar, and when it was empty, it would only take her four steps to get from the booth to the bar. Now, as full as it was, she had to wrestle her way through.

She enjoyed having a place like this. As much as she liked living in a new fancy house, this cramped, dark bar was much more comfortable. She didn't have to watch what she did or said, and she didn't have to hold herself back at all. Finally reaching the bar, she looked over her shoulder at the booth. As the crowd shifted, she could see Root laughing.

Had it been wrong to bring Root here? Shaw turned away, leaning on the bar between two people on stools. She didn't have a space just for herself anymore. Except for her work, which she would hardly count. The warehouse wasn't exactly a fun spot. She made a mental note to ask Root if she needed any new pieces.

On the other hand, Shaw was glad that Root was getting a chance to see that being a homosexual could be normal. There were plenty of people living their lives and loving the people they wanted to love. Sure, it was usually a secret, but that didn't mean it was bad. Root just needed to feel a little more comfortable with her feelings. Shaw chuckled to herself. She was trying to help someone else with feelings.

"Shaw!" Harper said, appearing in front of her. "Your usual?"

"Two." Shaw ran a hand over her hair. "On my tab, please."

Harper smiled, leaning back and crossing her arms. "You met someone? I'm glad! Stop pining for that rich, tall girl, whatever her name is."

"It's Root."

Shaw tensed, her hand freezing in her hair. A pair of arms wound around her shoulders, and a warm body pressed against her back. She could feel Root's hair tickling her shoulders and she couldn't stop herself from leaning back into her.

Harper's shocked look shifted into one of delight and she squealed happily. "I can't believe it! You-"

"Alright," Shaw said, lifting her hands and cutting Harper off. "Can we just get our beers?"

"Sure thing."

Harper winked and went to get the cans out of the fridge. Turning in Root's arms, Shaw leaned backwards, resting her elbows on the bar and forcing Root to step closer. She looked up into Root's smiling eyes.

"The two of them get too annoying?" Shaw joked. She spread her legs to steady herself, and had to hold back a smile when Root shifted to fit between them. "You've barely spent any time with them."

Root laughed. "They're great," she answered. "I just didn't want to be away from you too long. Don't want someone else getting their hands on you."

The comment made Shaw feel warm, but she rolled her eyes and put her hands on Root's hips to move her away. Root still hadn't mentioned their conversation again, except to take her up on the offer to come out to the bar. Shaw didn't want to get her hopes up.

Root's eyes flicked up over Shaw's head and she smiled. "Thanks! I didn't get your name before."

"It's Harper! I'm the owner."

Shaw turned again, picking up the two cans. "See ya."

She nodded for Root to head for the booth again, but as soon as Root had turned, there was a woman in their way. The woman had short blonde hair, curled close to her head. She reached out to push Root's hair behind her ears.

"Buy you a drink, dear?"

"No," Shaw answered, pushing past Root to glare at the woman. "She's off-limits. Spread it around."

The woman sniffed, but she walked away. Shaw looked over her shoulder at Root, shaking her head, but Root's eyes were fixed to something across the room. Shaw followed her gaze and spotted two women leaning against the wall. They were wrapped in each other, sharing slow, deep kisses.

Looking back at Root, Shaw saw that she was blushing, a smile spread across her face. Her hands here pressed to her stomach, like she was holding back butterflies. Shaw smiled, her own selfish plan working. Maybe if Root saw that this wasn't just something between them, that there were other people living this life, a happy life, she'd be less afraid to speak up.

"Come on," Shaw said, getting Root's attention. "Let's sit."

Root nodded, eyelashes fluttering. "Ok."

Shaw shifted her cans to one hand, and reached back with the other. Root took it, their hands wrapping together perfectly, and let Shaw pull her forward. They moved through the crowd carefully, ending up back in the booth.

When they got to it, Joss and Fusco glanced at their hands, but said nothing. Shaw stepped aside and let Root slide in first. She dropped in afterwards. Opening the cans, she handed one to Root.

"So," Fusco started, looking between them. "Any big weekend plans?"

"We're having dinner with her boss tomorrow night," Shaw answered. "I'm not looking forward to it."

Joss snorted. "That Finch guy?"

"Yes," Root said, still looking a little bit shaken. "He's John's boss, too, and his friend. So, we have to go. I'm bringing Sameen along for some company."

"Wow," Fusco chuckled. "I would kill to see Shaw try and play 'dinner party.'"

Shaw kicked him under the table, smiling when he coughed in pain. "I'm going to be a damn sight better at it than you are."

"Will you wear a dress?" Joss asked, looking too excited. "Stockings? Heels?"

Frowning, Shaw looked to Root. "I'm wearing pants, right?"

Root just smiled, and took a sip of her beer. She shrugged.

"Root," Shaw asked again, "I'm wearing pants, right?"

Root winked at her, and put her beer down. Leaning forward, she brushed her lips over the shell of Shaw's ear and Shaw could feel the smile curl Root's lips up.

"I couldn't get you out of your pants before," Root whispered. "I'm not going to pass up the chance for a second time."

Root moved herself backwards into the booth, away from Shaw, and leaned her back against the wall. Keeping her eyes fixed on Shaw, Root picked her beer up and took another sip. Shaw could hear the blood rushing in her ears and she swallowed. That was probably the best hint she was going to get that Root remembered what happened on Monday night.

She took a deep breath and picked her beer up. It had been years since she'd worn a dress, but the way Root was looking at her made it pretty clear that she didn't have a choice in the matter. Shaw took a long drink. She prayed that Reese wouldn't be home when they got back. If he was, Shaw was going straight to bed.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Root laughed as they walked in the front door. "I'm just saying, I don't think the driver liked that you were doing pull-ups with the bars."

"It's not like I can bend them," Sameen chuckled from behind her, "and if I can, well, that's just a bad bus."

Root put her purse on the table, turning around to smile at Sameen. It had been an amazing night, and a great end to the day, but she wanted something more than beer to celebrate. She watched Sameen close the door.

When it was closed, Sameen turned around, her eyes dark. She licked her lips, taking a few steps toward Root. A confident smile spread across her face, and she pushed her hands into her pocket.

"So," she started, her voice low. "Did you have a good time tonight?"

Root nodded, moving closer. "I did. Thanks for inviting me."

Shaking her head, Shaw took another slow step forward. "I didn't invite you. You asked me to take you out."

"I guess I did," Root breathed. They were very close now, another step would bring them flush against each other. Root pushed her hair behind her ears. "I was thinking… I don't really want the night to end."

"Yeah?"

"Yes." Root reached out to brush a hand down Shaw's bicep. "So-"

"Root?" John's voice called from the living room. "Shaw?"

Shaw's face dropped, her expectant look twisting into a frown. Root sighed, flashing her an apologetic smile and turned away. Her heart was pounding. They had been so close. John was sitting on the couch, still wearing his work suit. His legs were propped up on the coffee table, a glass of whiskey in his hand.

"Hello," Root greeted, stepping out of her heels. "You're up late."

John shrugged. "I… had some stuff to think about." He looked past her at Sameen. "Did you two go out together?"

"We did," Sameen answered, her voice tight. "Just for a couple drinks."

"A girls' night," Root added. "With some friends."

She felt guilty, like she was lying even though she wasn't. The truth was that she'd been planning on doing more and just because John had been home, didn't mean her plans didn't exist. Root was ready to kiss Sameen, more than ready, and that made her feel guilty.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw Sameen disappear into the stairway and shut the door. Her opportunity for the night was lost. Sighing, she walked to John and sat on the couch beside him. Immediately, he draped his arm around her and pulled her close.

She knew that she should tell him about catching Lambert and Leon, but he wouldn't understand just how much it meant to her. He would be proud in an abstract way, not like Sameen had been. Sameen knew what it meant for her to be able to stand up to two men like she had.

So, she just rested her head on his shoulder and thought about what Sameen was doing in her room. A couple of weeks ago, she would have pushed the thought away, but now she was starting to get used to it. Maybe she was even starting to like it.

Seeing everyone in the bar be so open and free made her want to do the same. It had felt nice to relax and flirt with Sameen and get hit on by women. Root had felt more like herself than ever. She knew that she had come to a decision. She had to make a move on Sameen before she went crazy, before she had to go to Chicago with John. Root was ready.


	15. You Can't Run Away From It

Shaw took a sip of her wine and placed it back onto the table as quietly as she could. Her goal for this dinner party was to make as little noise as possible. So far, she hadn't had to speak, but she knew that eventually, Finch's attention would turn to her. She uncrossed her legs, adjusting herself on the hard, wooden chair.

She'd only agreed to go to dinner because Root had asked her. If it had come from Reese or, god forbid, Finch himself, Shaw would have said no. Glancing at Root, Shaw felt her lips turn up in a small smile. Root looked amazing, comfortable in her nice dress. She delicately lifted her fork to her lips, attention focused on Reese.

Root and Shaw were sitting on the same side of the table; their chairs just far enough from the other that reaching over would be obvious. Across from her was Grace, and Shaw was doing a great job of avoiding eye contact. Finch sat at the head of the table and Reese had taken the chair beside him. Shaw was glad to be far from the conversation.

She looked down into her lap, smoothing her hands over her pale yellow skirt. It had been years since she'd worn a dress, but she'd let Root talk her into it. It was a little bit tight around her waist, and she was pretty sure the hem was supposed to hit her at the knees and not mid-calf, but it wasn't too bad. At least she'd put her foot down about heels.

Looking around at Finch's house, Shaw was unsurprised to see how pristine it was. She'd only met Grace a couple of times, but even without seeing how perfect this dinner was, she could have guessed that Grace spent all her time at home. Shaw would never be as good at cooking and cleaning, but she knew that wasn't all there was to it.

Root was a good cook, and a good cleaner, but Shaw knew that she would rather be reading, or working, than housekeeping. Shaw looked at Root again. It had been easy to give in to what Root wanted. One pointed glance and Shaw had found herself putting on the dress. She'd never been persuaded so easily before. She just wanted to make Root happy.

It was an odd feeling, one that she wasn't at all familiar with. Shaw had always done everything for herself, or maybe for her very close friends. Her eyes moved across the table to Reese. He was the only thing standing between her and Root. She didn't want to hurt him, but she knew that Root wasn't happy with him and that he'd be happier with someone else, too.

Should she push Root away because she was dating her best friend? Shaw had lived with them long enough to know that their relationship wasn't that strong. John liked having his own life and Root was trying to figure out what she wanted. Shaw's gaze dropped to her lap again. Root wanted her.

"Ms. Shaw," Finch said, pulling her attention to him. "I'm sorry to talk so much shop and leave you out."

Shaw shrugged. "It's alright." She saw Root smile at her from the corner of her eye. She wanted to roll her eyes, but she held herself back. "Uh, Root told me about catching the thieves."

"It was Shaw's idea," Root chimed in. "She suggested the trap."

"Well, I'm glad for the help." Finch adjusted his glasses, smiling stiffly. "John tells me you work in radio."

Shaw started to reach for her glass, but stopped and pulled her hand back. She wasn't nervous, she very rarely was, but she definitely could feel her awkwardness. Resting her hands in her lap, she returned his stiff smile.

"I work at Hammarlund," she answered. "So, yes. Radios."

Glancing at Root, she reached for her wine glass again. Root looked amused, her face scrunched up in a wide smile. Shaw gave in and rolled her eyes at her as she drank from her glass. The wine was good, but Shaw really preferred beer and liquor. Licking her lips, she squinted her eyes at Root.

"The radio industry is booming," Finch said. "There'll be a number of companies at the Chicago Conference."

"That's soon, isn't it?" Reese asked.

Finch nodded, leaning back in his chair. "Next week. You know Root is going?"

"I invited him along," Root said quietly. She shifted in her seat. "If his caseload will allow it. I leave on Wednesday."

Shaw noticed a look pass between Reese and Finch. She ignored it, turning instead to look at Root. The idea of Root and John spending a week together in another city, sharing a bed, made Shaw angry. Her stomach felt leaden. Root looked back at her, something like longing in her eyes.

"We'll see." Reese picked up his own glass. "I might be able to swing it."

"If not," Grace said, finally speaking, "Sameen could always go with you. That could be a fun trip!"

Root's eyelashes fluttered and Shaw wondered if she was thinking about sharing a hotel room, the way Shaw was. It would be a chance for them to be together without anyone to think about or watch out for. Shaw could imagine the way Root would look, hair splayed across white sheets, the sun streaming in an open window to shine on her face.

She could see Root's hands clench in her lap, gathering fabric in her hands. Shaw wanted to reach over and smooth them out, feel Root's skin against her own. She wanted to press Root's hand to her cheek, and smell the flowery perfume that she dabbed on her wrists every morning. She lifted her eyes to Root's face, catching her as she looked way.

"It could," Root almost whispered. She cleared her throat. "I'd probably be too busy attending seminars and meetings to be much fun either way."

Finch started talking about who would be attending the seminar and Shaw tuned him out. Keeping her eyes fixed on Root, Shaw watched the way Root's cheeks turned redder. Shaw wished she could think of an excuse to leave the dinner and spend the night with Root, alone. Root turned her head to look back at Shaw, and raised an eyebrow.

Shaw wondered how much longer this dinner would last. If there was a way for Reese to stay here later, for them to go back home alone. Her body warmed under Root's piercing gaze. Her thoughts must have shown on her face because Root suddenly pressed a hand to her stomach.

"Oh gosh," Root said, swiveling in her seat to face Reese and Finch. "I think I over ate. Would it be terrible of me to go home?"

"That's alright," Finch said, frowning. "I hope you feel better."

John started to stand. "I'll go with you."

"No," Shaw interrupted, hoping her eagerness didn't show in her voice. "I'll take her. Stay and talk with your friends."

He looked between them, but shrugged and sat back down. "Ok," he said. "I'll be home soon."

Shaw nodded and stood, stepping around her chair to Root's. She pulled it back. Carefully, Root stood up, her arm brushing against Shaw's. Their eyes met again, and Shaw had to look away from the intensity in Root's gaze. Giving the table a tight smile, she pushed in the chair and started for the door.

Root immediately hooked her arm through Shaw's, giving her a small pout and rubbing her stomach. Rolling her eyes, Shaw let her hold on, leading her to the front door. She unlocked it, and pulled it open, gesturing for Root to go through first. She did, dropping Shaw's arm, and stepped into the early night air.

Hurrying out after her and shutting the door, Shaw took a deep breath. The stiff conversation had made her feel trapped and the air feel stagnant. Out in the night, with the sun setting behind the houses across the street, Shaw could breathe again.

"Come on," Root called, already halfway down the walkway. "I want to get home."

"Because of your stomach?" Shaw said wryly, her mouth twisting into a disbelieving smile. "We don't want to walk to quickly and make it hurt worse."

Root held up her middle finger, looking unamused, but playful. "Any excuse to get out of that dinner."

Shaw laughed and walked down the walkway, her skirt brushing against her legs. When she got to Root, she reached out and pushed Root's finger down. Root just grinned at her.

"That's not very ladylike of you," Shaw joked, taking her hand back and walking past her. "What will the neighbors think?"

"I don't care anymore," Root sighed. Her heels were loud in the quiet neighborhood as she dragged her feet. "I'm so tired of all of the pretense. Tired of pretending."

Root sounded thoughtful and Shaw knew there was a double meaning in her words. The past week or so, Root had been trying hard to step outside of her current comfort zone. They'd gone to a street car race, and to the Black Cherry. The whole time, Root was flirting with Shaw, touching her. It was driving Shaw crazy.

It was taking almost all of Shaw's self-control to not grab Root and throw her down onto the lawn. Instead, she just turned onto the sidewalk and started toward their house. She tried to put her hands in her pockets, but they slide uselessly against her dress. Groaning, she dropped her head back in annoyance.

"I want to get out of this dress."

"Then take it off."

Lolling her head to the side, Shaw looked at Root, trying to figure out how far she was planning on taking this. Root wasn't looking at her. Instead, she was looking straight ahead and tugging on her gloves. By now, Shaw knew that meant Root was nervous, that she wanted to do something, but wasn't sure if it was allowed.

Shaw looked away, lifting her head. It was finally hot, the end of May bringing summer in full heat, and Shaw could feel sweat start to bead on her back. Her hand brushed against Root's again as they walked the short distance to their own walkway. Sneaking a glance up at Root's face, Shaw noticed the heat getting to her, too. Her normally pale face and neck were dotted with sweat. They turned onto their walkway and Shaw spun around to walk backwards.

"Let's go for a swim," she suggested, her hands brushing against her dress as she tried to put them in pockets that didn't exist. "I think I should take your advice. Take the dress off."

Root chest expanded as she took a deep breath. "Ok," she breathed, nervously tucking her hair behind her ear. "I'll change quickly."

"No." Shaw narrowed her eyes, daring Root to disagree. "Let's just swim in our underwear. It's almost the same. For you. I'm wearing a lot less than a bathing suit, but I don't mind."

Root nodded eagerly. "Ok. That sounds great."

Smirking, Shaw turned around as they got to the house. As she reached for the front door, Root pressed against her back, and Shaw found her eyes closing as she felt Root's warmth against her own. She felt almost naked already, Root's fingers lightly brushing her hips making her feel exposed. Shaw swallowed, leaning back into Root's weight as she blindly opened the door. They hadn't bothered locking it; no one around here was going to break in.

Shaw mourned the loss of Root's chest against her back as she opened her eyes and walked inside. The air conditioning felt cool and wonderful, but it just made her want Root's heat against her again. Moving out of the way of the door, Shaw debated with herself. She knew that Root wanted to kiss her, possibly do more than that, but Shaw wasn't sure if she should push.

She glanced at Root, who was slowly closing the door, her face unreadable. What if Shaw was just reading into everything because she was attracted to Root and wanted it to be true? After all, Root hadn't actually said that she remembered last weekend, and even if she did, that didn't mean she felt the same sober. Maybe Root was just friendly, maybe she flirted with all her friends or just found Shaw exciting because she was new.

Shaw rested her hand on the side table as Root closed the door. It felt silly to go swimming now that they were inside the house and out of the hot night. It was already dark outside and the air conditioning was giving Shaw goosebumps as it chilled the sweat on her arms. She'd been the one to suggest swimming, though, as a cover for getting undressed. She looked at Root again, watching as she slowly stepped of her heels.

For a moment, Shaw thought about just going upstairs and letting Root follow her, but what if the message wasn't clear? Root could think she was just walking away. Shaw's stomach felt heavy at the thought that Root would think she was being rejected again. Maybe Root wouldn't follow because it was too similar to what had happened the weekend before.

She could almost feel the tension between them, thick and palpable. The air held possibility and anticipation and she wasn't sure if Root was waiting for her to act or if she was waiting for Root to say something. Were they really going to go through the act of swimming? Why couldn't she just take control like she always had before? Why did this feel so important?

Shaw sighed as Root tugged at her gloves. Slowly, like she was buying time, Root pulled at the tip of each finger, getting ready to take them off. Shaw turned her head, looking out the glass doors across the living room to the back yard. The blue lights of the pool made the water look ethereal. It was already dark in the backyard, the wooden fence enclosing the pool area looking like black, shadowy walls.

Taking a breath, Shaw decided that they should swim after all, since she couldn't bring herself to make a move in the entryway. "Ready?" she asked, gesturing at the backyard.

Root took one step forward before looking down at Shaw's feet. "Don't you want to take your shoes off?"

"Oh." Shaw quickly stepped out of her flats, the cold tile of the entryway sticking to her bare feet. "Lead the way."

Nodding, like she was steeling herself, Root started across the living room. She tossed her gloves onto the couch as they passed. Root ran her hands over her stomach and Shaw wasn't sure if she was imagining the slight tremble of Root's shoulders. It was obvious, even to Shaw, that Root was nervous. Shaw didn't know if she should chalk it up to swimming in the backyard almost naked, or if it was a shake of excitement.

The silence that surrounded them was deafening. Shaw could hear their soft footsteps on the carpeted steps and swallowed. This would be a good place for a joke, or any comment really, but her mind was blank. It felt like she was walking toward something important and she couldn't break the serious quiet.

It was almost funny, how fast her heart was pounding. Maybe she was just too pent up. She wondered what would happen if nothing happened tonight. How long could they go on like this? How long until Shaw went crazy? Could she even stay in this house when all she wanted was to sleep in the same bed as Root?

She thought about finding someone to bring home again to burn off more steam and buy herself some more time. It wouldn't be too hard to convince herself that this was purely lust and that a good lay would cure her. She watched Root's hands as they slid open the glass door and clenched her fists.

Those were the hands she wanted on her. Long and delicate fingers would press into her skin and make her burn. She wanted to feel Root's soft stomach beneath her palms again, wanted to press so close she couldn't tell where she ended and Root began. She needed to feel Root and taste her.

Root glanced over her shoulder at Shaw, tossing her head to throw her hair over her shoulder. "Are you coming?"

Shaw nodded, relaxing her hands. "I'm right behind you."

A small smile tugged at Root's lips. The blue lights from the pool, and the small light set into the wall above the glass doors made Root glow. Shaw smiled back and Root turned away, stepping outside onto the concrete patio. The darkness of the night seemed to swallow her, her details disappearing. Shaw followed her silhouette.

The hot air clung to her bare arms and legs as she slid the door shut behind her. Around them, the summer Cicadas chirped, making the air hum. Root wandered slowly to the edge of the pool, her arms loose at her sides. The quiet lapping of the water in the pool filled the air and Shaw took a deep breath, breathing in the smell of chlorine from the pool. This shouldn't be so stressful, but she felt clueless for the first time in a while.

"I love swimming," Root said softly, looking down into the water. "When I was young, during the summer, I would spend all day at the public pool. I only stopped when I had to get a job."

"What's Texas like?" Shaw asked, leaning back against the door. She could feel her hands slipping in the cool condensation that had gathered on the glass. "Hot, I'm guessing?"

Root laughed, looking over her shoulder at Shaw. "It's very hot. Humid, too. New York has nothing on Texas."

"I like California," Shaw scoffed. "It's a dry heat, at least."

"I've never gotten a nosebleed, though." Root smiled at her. "Not from a lack of humidity, anyway."

The conversation relaxed Shaw a little bit. It reminded her that Root was a person, too, and that they liked each other. Whatever steps they would take tonight, they were still friends. Shaw didn't make friends easily.

"What made your nosebleed, then?"

Sighing, Root started pulling pins out of her hair. "I got into a fist fight with some drunk customers. I worked at a bar. I was technically underage, but with a little make-up, no one could tell. I made wages and tips, so that was nice."

"You got into a fight with, who? A big drunk guy?" Shaw smiled at the image of a tiny Root trying to boss around a large man. "That's bold."

Root dropped her hair pins to the ground, her loose curls tumbling over her shoulders. "I'm a bold woman, Sameen."

Shaw bit her lip and pushed herself off the door. "Yeah?"

"Yes." Root gathered her hair, in her hands and turned her back to Shaw. "Unzip me," she ordered.

Taking a few quick steps toward Root, Shaw obeyed. She took Root's zipper in her fingers and dragged it down her back, exposing skin that glistened with sweat. Shaw pushed apart the sides of Root's dress, helping to push them down her arms when Root dropped them.

Unable to keep her hands to herself, Shaw brushed her fingers down the boning of Root's bra. It always looked painful, how tightly Root was wrapped up. How could she breathe with all that restriction? Root's dress fell to the ground and she turned, her chest and body suddenly inches from Shaw's face.

Shaw looked up, meeting Root's eyes. It was too dark to see her clearly, but she looked mischievous, the flashes of blue from the pool glinting in her eyes. Shaw swallowed hard, her fingers running down the boning on the front of Root's bra now. They reached the bottom and stopped at the strip of skin between Root's bra and her girdle, burning the longer they rested there.

The heat of a summer's night and the smell of chlorine made the air feel thick. Shaw could feel drops of sweat rolling down her back, making her aware of her body and how close it was to Root's. Summer always made her feel nostalgic, made her think about lazy days laying in the grass and riding her bike to school. It also made her glad for her short hair.

Root's eyes blinked slowly and she looked sleepy, the heat obviously getting to her, too. It was hard to move through the haze of a hot night. Shaw's mind felt a million miles away as she started to move her hands to Root's waist, ready to pull her close. Root smiled lazily, put her hands on Shaw's thin belt.

Undoing it quickly, she pulled it from its loops and tossed it aside. "Turn around," she murmured, her voice low. "It's your turn."

Shaw nodded, obeying without thinking. She lifted her hands to lift her hair out of the way before remembering that she'd started cutting her hair years ago. There were no long strands sticking to her face, no heavy ponytail to twist up before she swam. She moved her hands to her chest instead, so she could catch her dress as Root unzipped it.

It fell forward against her hands, and Shaw let it down slowly. The dress pooled at her feet, the yellow almost green in the blue light. She shivered as her skin was surrounded by warm air and stepped out of the dress. Normally, she wouldn't be self-conscious about standing in front of a woman, only in a bra and underwear, but it felt so deliberate now that she had to take a breath before she turned around.

Root's gaze burned her skin as it took her in, lingering on her stomach and the curve of her hips. For just a moment, Shaw felt unsure of herself. They'd never talked about the other times that Root had seen her. Did she like what she saw? Did she wish that Shaw was taller? Broader?

"How'd you get to be so strong?" Root asked, her voice barely audible over the lapping of the pool.

Shaw felt her cheeks grow hot. "You're not the only one who got into fights with big men as a child."

Root's face seemed to light up, and she kept her eyes on Shaw as she started to undo her stockings. "Did you pick them? Or did fights just find you?"

"Both," Shaw said, chuckling. She looked at Root's long legs and the way she folded herself effortless in half to roll them down her long thighs and calves. "I never backed down from a fight and I never shied away from starting one. I had a job, too, and an autoshop, and I was more than willing to step to any customer who doubted me."

Root looked away finally, so she could step out of the stockings and Shaw felt like the world dimmed a little. She turned away to face the pool, the concrete beneath her feet scratchy and cool. Her mind buzzed, overwhelmed by sensations. The heat of the air, the smell of the pool, the feel of the concrete, all made her feel weightless, like she was suddenly young again. She felt like she should cautious again, worried about kissing girls and being found out.

"I can't imagine someone doubting you," Root said, sounding amused. "I can, however, imagine you throwing punches at anyone who got close enough."

"I am a punch thrower," Shaw agreed. She looked over as Root came to stand beside her. "I'm very good at hurting people."

Root sucked in a shaky breath. "Don't hurt me, ok?"

"I'll do my best."

She took a few steps forward and walked off the edge of the patio into the pool. The water swallowed her, dulling the world for a moment as she closed her eyes and sunk to the bottom. She could feel the bubbles tickle her skin as she moved her hands through the water, keeping herself in place.

Shaw opened her eyes, taking in the otherworldly green of the water as the blue light tried to push through it. A muffled splash made her turn in place, her legs and arms propelling her around. She watched as Root sank in beside her, her body curled into a tight ball and one hand pinching her nose shut. Shaw grinned and straightened herself, swimming up for air.

She gasped as she burst through the water, her feet kicking beneath her. The heated pool felt good around her, the smell now totally surrounding her. Shaw shook her head, spraying water in every direction.

Root surfaced a couple feet away, throwing her head back and making her hair arch through the air. It hit the water behind her with a soft splash. They grinned at each other across the distance, and Shaw laughed, pushing water at Root to splash her in the face.

"Stop grinning at me," Shaw chuckled. "You look crazy in the light."

Root swam backwards to avoid the splash. "You look crazy, too! This isn't good lighting for anybody."

Shaw ducked under the water, swimming towards Root's legs. The odd light of the pool made them look miles long. Reaching out, Shaw wrapped her hands around one of Root's calves and yanked her down. Root's long arms and legs weaved through the water as she tried to get her bearings. Once she was steady, Root glared at Shaw and kicked her foot against the floor to launch toward her.

Her arms grabbed Shaw's head, pushing her down into the water as she swam overhead. Shaw scramble to move Root's hands away, holding back her laughter so she didn't swallow water. Root let her go, moving further into the pool and Shaw used the floor to propel herself up.

"That's cheating," Shaw said, her voice loud in the quiet night. "You can't try and kill me!"

"Oh," Root said from across the pool, "are we playing a game?"

Shaw stuck her tongue out at her, running a hand over her hair. They were definitely playing a game of cat and mouse. She just wasn't sure who was who. Root winked at her, the blue light moved with the water and exaggerated the scrunch of Root's face. Shaw wanted to kiss the smirk off her face.

They just swam slowly for a few minutes, lazily moving around the pool and occasionally splashing each other. Shaw wasn't sure what to do about the silence, or the kissing, or any of it. She wondered if she could just stay in this pool forever, swimming in circles and keeping a safe distance.

"Sameen?"

Shaw put her feet down, standing in the shallow end. Even at this end of the pool, the water almost covered her shoulders. She looked at Root, who was clinging to the wall and looking at her with a guarded expression.

"Yeah?"

"Last weekend…" Root ran a hand over the surface of the pool. "Monday night. I'm sorry if I made things awkward."

Shaw's stomach clenched, but she just shrugged. "It's fine. You didn't."

Nodding, Root sighed. "I meant what I said. You know that, right?"

"About liking women? I know."

"No." Root pushed herself from the wall and started walking towards Shaw. "About you. About us."

Shaw swallowed. She hadn't expected Root to say anything about it and now that she had, now that it was between them in the open again, she didn't know what to do. She wasn't interested in being some straight girl's experiment, but Shaw knew now that that wasn't what Root wanted. Somehow, Shaw had found herself being pursued. Normally, she was the one pursuing.

"I'm serious about this, Sameen," Root breathed, only a few feet away now. "I've learned a lot about myself since you showed up, and I'm ready to make some bold choices."

"Choices?" Shaw croaked, moving backwards. She only made it a few steps before her back hit the wall of the pool. "Like what?"

Root tilted her head, stalking closer and closer, her hands brushing the top of the pool as she closed in. "I have a choice to make. You see, I really like you, Sameen, but I'm not sure if I should kiss you, or keep pretending like I don't want to."

"That's a tough choice," Shaw whispered.

Root finally reached her. She pressed herself against Shaw, pushing her back into the wall of the pool. Shaw stared up at her with wide eyes. Their skin brushed together underwater, and she felt like she was overheating. The water was warm, but Root's body felt like it was on fire. Shaw grabbed Root's hips to steady herself.

"I know what choice I want to make," Root said, cupping Shaw's face in her hands. Her trembling betrayed her confident tone. "I need to know something first, though."

Shaw tightened her grip on Root's hips. She stretched up onto her toes as Root's head dipped down. They were so close; their lips almost touching, but Shaw couldn't make her lips any higher and Root was still keeping herself out of reach.

"Tell me, Sameen," Root whispered desperately. "Do you want to kiss me, too?"

Taking her hands from Root's hips, Shaw tangled them in Root's wet hair and pulled her mouth down. Their lips came together, slowly and carefully. Shaw's eyes fluttered closed. Root's lips were softer than she could have ever imagined and she could taste the chlorine on them as they pressed against her own. She tasted like summer and something electric. Shaw found herself melting into the kiss.

Root's thumbs brushed against Shaw's cheeks as they kissed. Shaw wrapped her arms around Root, holding her as close as possible. She felt like she could kiss Root forever, but at the same time, she needed more. She need to touch and kiss every part of Root, learn her entire body and lose herself in it.

The kiss was everything she'd wanted, and Shaw was relieved to know that she'd made the right choice. She couldn't imagine having missed this. The weeks of waiting had been worth it, and now she could do this forever.

Root pulled away, her eyes blinking open and a smile bloomed on her face. "Wow," she breathed. Her face still hovered about Shaw's barely far enough to talk. "That was amazing."

Laughing, Shaw hit Root's shoulder, half-heartedly pushing her away. "You're such a dork."

"You didn't like it?" Root joked, but Shaw could hear the uncertainty in her voice.

Instead of answering, Shaw just kissed her again, wrapping her arms around Root's waist and pulling her close. This is what she'd been waiting for all this time, to hold Root and kiss her and feel the warmth of Root's soft body against her own. A soft moan escaped from Root's lips and she ran her hands down Shaw's neck to her chest.

Her hands covered Shaw's chest, nails scraping damp skin as she curled her fingers around the lace of Shaw's had only worn it because of the dress and now she was wishing she'd worn nothing. Root pulled the thin fabric down, exposing Shaw to the warm, pool water.

Root squeezed Shaw's breasts, pulling her head away to look down. "I want to see you."

"Let's go to my bedroom," Shaw said in a strangled whisper.

Even as she nodded, Root kissed Shaw again, her hands hot as they dragged their way down to Shaw's stomach. Her hands tried to touch every inch of Shaw's skin, desperate to become familiar. Shaw dropped her hands to Root's butt, wishing she wasn't wearing so much damn underwear. She pushed Root's hips into her, making Root gasp into her mouth.

"Come on," Shaw breathed, running her lips along Root's jaw. "Let's go."

Root swam back, turning and hurrying for the ladder. She reached the side of the pool quickly, and used the metal ladder to pull herself out. Covering her chest again, Shaw followed her. As soon as Root was out of the way, Shaw chased after her up the steps.

"Should we take our clothes?" Root asked, stopping beside the pile.

Shaw rolled her eyes as she stepped off the ladder onto the concrete patio. "Yes. We don't want Reese finding them."

The comment seemed to slow Root down, dampen her enthusiasm. Shaw refused to let Reese come between them again and jogged across the patio to Root. She grabbed the back of her neck and yanked her head down, crashing their lips together again. Immediately, Root's hands were around her waist and she was pressing herself tightly to Shaw.

Their skin stuck together, the chlorine and hot air mixing to make Shaw feel drowsy and alive all at once. She groaned into Root's mouth, clutching her shoulders. She could feel Root's breasts brush against her own and pulled away.

"Get your clothes and let's go," Shaw ordered. "I need to touch more of you."

Root grinned and squatted to gather her dress and her stockings. Grabbing her own dress, Shaw started for the glass doors, sliding them open and stepping inside. The air conditioning that had felt so good before now chilled her, making her shiver. Checking to make sure Root was behind her, Shaw headed for the door to the stairs.

They crossed the living room quickly, Root darting ahead to open the door for Shaw. Shaw jumped the first few steps and turned around. She watched Root shut the door behind her and waited impatiently for her to climb the first few steps. They kissed again, their dresses keeping them apart.

Shaw didn't care. She just sucked Root's lip into her mouth, drinking in Root's soft gasp. Kissing Root was her new favorite thing. She was sure that she'd soon have a new favorite, but right now, the only thing she knew was that Root's lips were the best she'd ever touched.

Pressing one last quick kiss to Root's lips, Shaw turned around and raced up the stairs. When she got to the hallway, she dropped the clothes in her arms to the floor and spun around to knock Root's out of her arms, too. She took a deep breath, taking in the way Root's wet skin glistened in the light from the hall.

The pool had turned Root's bra transparent, and Shaw could see hard nipples through the sheer fabric. The sharp chlorine smell had followed them into the house, and Shaw licked her lips, tasting it there, too. Root's body was perfect. She was tall and lean, all soft curves and sharp edges. Shaw couldn't imagine a more perfect woman.

Root stared at Shaw's body with wide eyes, her cheeks and chest red. "You're too good to be real," Root said, her voice low. "I'm dead and you're an angel."

"I'm not," Shaw answered. She reached out a hand. "If I were an angel, I wouldn't have spent all that time picturing you naked." Root took her hand and Shaw started walking backward toward her room. "I would have imagined tasting you, or fucking you."

Root sucked in a sharp breath, her eyelids fluttering. "I've thought about that so much."

"Yeah?"

"Yes." Root took a few extra steps and dropped Shaw's hand so she could wrap her arms around Shaw's shoulders. "I've been thinking about you for months. Over me, under me, inside me."

Shaw's back hit her closed door and Root dipped her head to kiss her. Her mouth was insistent, tongue pushing its way between Shaw's lips and chest pushing against Shaw's. Shaw could feel her body grow hot, even as the air conditioning chilled her. She ran her hands up the boning of Root's bra over her breasts.

Exasperated, she turned her head to the side, ripping her lips from Root's. "You're wearing so much clothing," she gasped as Root kissed her jaw and trailed her open mouth down Shaw's neck. "You need to be naked right now."

"Then take my clothes off," Root sighed into Shaw's collarbone.

Fumbling for the door handle, Shaw found it and twisted her door open. They stumbled into her bedroom. Shaw tore herself away from Root and went to her bed, knocking off laundry that she'd left scattered on top of it. When it was clear, she turned to Root and pointed.

"On the bed."

Root grinned at her, running to the bed and hopping on to it. "You'll have to teach me," she said, laying down and reaching her arms out to Shaw. "I'm a quick study."

Shaw climbed on top of her, marveling at the feeling of silky soft skin beneath her own. She lifted Root's legs, settling between them and leaning down kiss her. Root's legs wrapped around her hips, holding her close. Her hands reached around behind Shaw and unhooked her bra with deft fingers.

Without breaking their kiss, Shaw pulled the bra down her arms and tossed it aside. Root's hands cupped her breasts, thumbs running over tight nipples. Shaw groaned into her mouth. Root's hands were like fire on her skin.

Lifting herself enough to reach between them, Shaw pulled down the straps to Root's bra and tugged it so Root's breasts were exposed. She moved down, kissing her way down Root's throat, to her breasts. Root's chest heaved as she sucked in air, her whole body vibrating as Shaw kissed sensitive skin and wrapped her lips around a hard nipple.

Root moaned, her hands jumping up to clutch at Shaw's head. "I want to feel all of you," Root gasped. "I need to feel all of you."

Shaw nipped once at Root's breast and sat back, moving her attention to the complicated layers Root was wearing. "What first?"

"Garter," Root instructed, shifting so she could sit up a little bit and rest on her elbows. "Then girdle, or my bra, I guess."

"The next time we do this," Shaw said as she undid the five small clips that kept Root's garter in place, "you are starting out with much fewer layers."

Root grinned and chuckled. "I'll never wear a girdle again."

Shaw threw the garter aside and started undoing the hooks on Root's girdle. There had to be at least twenty. Her fingers had a hard time with the small buttons. Usually, the women Shaw slept with only wore underwear. They usually didn't even bother with bras. She'd never had sex with such a delicate lady before.

She was halfway down the fastenings when she heard a noise from downstairs. Freezing, she listened for another.

"What-"

"Shut up," Shaw muttered. The front door closed downstairs and her eyes widened. "Reese."

"Oh my god!"

Root scrambled out of the bed, her legs hitting Shaw as she turned. Throwing herself backwards, Shaw moved to the end of the bed and watched as Root quickly closed the clasps that Shaw had so painstakingly undone. Root looked at her with panicked eyes.

"Root?" John called from the bottom of the stairs. "Shaw? Are you here?"

"One minute!" Root yelled back. "I'm just… finishing a project!"

"Ok!" he answered. "I'll be in the kitchen!"

Root pulled her bra up, sticking her arms through the straps, and walked back to the bed, standing in front of Shaw. "I'm not scared this time," she said quietly. "I'm yours now."

Shaw's heart pounded in her chest. It would be so easy to push this all away and pretend like it never happened. Root was dating her best friend. Shaw owed Reese so much. She lived in his house, ate his food, relied entirely on him. She should ignore how much she wanted to be near his girlfriend.

It would also be so easy to be selfish. Shaw didn't even have to convince Root. They were already there, already too close for comfort. Licking her lips, Shaw rose onto her knees and reached for Root, cupping her jaw with one hand and tangling the other in her long, wet hair.

They kissed, hard and desperate. Shaw didn't want anyone else to touch Root again. No one was good enough for her, not even Shaw, but she knew that she was willing to try. Root's hands gripped Shaw's ribs, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts and Shaw wondered how she'd convinced someone as brilliant as Root to even look at her.

Shaw pulled her mouth away, resting her forehead on Root's. "Don't sleep with him," she whispered, hating how much it sounded like begging. "You're mine now."

"I won't. I'm yours." She kissed Shaw quickly and stepped away. "Come with me to Chicago next week."

"I have work." Shaw sat back on the bed. "I can't just leave."

Root smiled at her, starting to walk backwards to the door. "Leave Lionel to me," she said, raising her eyebrows. "Let me take you on a trip."

Shaw rolled her eyes even as a smile tugged at her lips. "You'll take care of it? Big spender."

"Tit for tat," Root laughed, stopping as she got to the doorway. "I take care of the hotel, the flight, food, all of that, and you'll take care… of me."

Licking her lips, Shaw nodded. "Ok, but you wear very few layers in Chicago."

"With luck, I'll be wearing none at all." Root winked at her, making Shaw chuckle. "Good night, Sameen."

"Good night, Root."

Root turned around and walked out the door. Shaw could hear the rustle of cloth and she assumed Root was putting her dress back on. In a moment, when Root walked downstairs, Shaw would go take a shower. For now, she dropped back onto the bed and stared at her ceiling. She'd need to replace her sheets before she went to bed; these were soaking wet now.

All of her plans to fuck Root and forget her had gone out the window. Even as she'd thought it the first time, she knew that Root was different. She was worth more than that. She deserved more than that.

Shaw didn't know what it was about Root that made her so interesting. She'd met hot women before, but Root was so much smarter than those women. She was just so easy to spend time with, to talk to. It was never difficult. Shaw could appreciate someone who was easy to be around.

Root could fix cars, invent new technology, shotgun a beer. She was also incredibly feminine, a great cook, organized. Shaw closed her eyes and sighed. Root was impossible to figure out. Maybe that's why Shaw spent so much time thinking about her. She hoped that she never figured Root out.

She ran her hands over her stomach, dragging her nails over her still damp skin. Her whole body was humming, excited from their brief contact. Shaw had never been to Chicago before, but she had a feeling it would become one of her favorite cities. For now, she thought, sitting up, it was time for a shower.


	16. A Life Of Her Own

Shaw dropped down onto the bed, bouncing slightly on her butt. Root was getting ready to leave for the conference, pacing between the bathroom and her suitcase, which sat on a small cot by the dining table. The room was large, so Shaw settled out of the way on the bed and let Root go through her morning routine.

They'd gotten to Chicago at half-past midnight and gone straight to the hotel room. Shaw had never flown before. She'd been surprised at all the alcohol and ended up drinking more than she should have. Now, she was kicking herself for it. She didn't have a hangover, but she'd fallen asleep as soon as she'd gotten into bed the night before.

Watching Root pace now, Shaw could see how nervous she was about the conference. Root wasn't presenting, but she'd said there would be famous lecturers, men who had 'revolutionized' the field. None of the names she'd listed meant anything to Shaw, but she was glad that Root was getting to meet her heroes.

Root walked out of the bathroom, hands at her ear as she put her earring in. Her hair was pinned up in tight curls and her make-up was perfect. Shaw smiled, crossing her legs in front of her. She hadn't even changed out of her sleep clothes yet.

Glancing at her, Root smiled and dropped her hands down to her sides. She held her arms out a little bit and shrugged. "How do I look?"

"Like you're a genius who's ready to be recognized," Shaw joked. She winked. "You look great."

"I'm really nervous." Root picked up her gloves and started tugging them on. "My first lecture is on vocoders, so I don't want to be late. I need to take a lot of notes for my own project."

Shaw glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost eight, but Root's first lecture wasn't until nine and they were in the same building as the conference. "I think you'll be fine."

Root finished up her gloves. Checking her ears, she gasped and headed back for the bathroom. "I only put one earring on!"

She disappeared into the bathroom as Shaw chuckled. The past few days had been odd at home. Reese had been home all day on Sunday and every evening during the week. She and Root had gone to the movies on Sunday night, trying to get some time alone, but Reese had gone along with them.

Shaw couldn't tell if he knew what had happened on Saturday night or if he was just trying to spend more time with them, but by the time he'd driven them to the airport on Wednesday evening, she'd been more than glad to leave him. She and Root had barely kissed all week, stealing an hour after work to spend at Root's apartment before going home to Reese.

They hadn't gone any farther. Root was willing, and so was Shaw, but they agreed that they didn't want to have to rush, or have to keep quiet for fear of getting caught. So, they'd waited. Shaw glanced at the clock again, wishing that it was already night. She felt like she could burst at the seams.

"I'm almost ready!" Root called from the bathroom. "Just finishing up!"

"Ok," Shaw called back.

She didn't have anywhere she had to be, so Root's schedule didn't affect her. Before she'd left New York, she'd asked Joss and Fusco if they knew where to go in Chicago. Joss had given her the address of a bar. She'd probably wander around trying to find that later.

Looking around the hotel room, Shaw sighed. It was huge. There was a full kitchen, a living room area with a couch, two sofas, and a coffee table. Root's suitcase was in the dining room. The bed was in its own small room, hidden away by two sliding doors. They'd left them open overnight and Shaw could see the whole hotel room through them now.

She hadn't thought about Root's money for a while. Of course, Shaw knew that she had a fancy job and that she had her own apartment in the city. She'd seen Root tip at the race, but it was different to know that Finch had paid $280 for their flights and that Root had upgraded their hotel room to one with a balcony and a full kitchen. Root spent money casually, whether it was $40 or $200.

Shaw couldn't help but think that she wasn't going to be good enough for Root. What could she give her? Reese could buy Root nice clothing. He could take her on trips, feed and house both of them without blinking. Shaw didn't have anything to offer Root. Shaw couldn't even live alone if she wanted to. What would she do if Reese kicked her out? She realized that she should probably just stay in the hotel on this trip. She didn't have that much money to spend anyway.

Root walked out of the bathroom, grinning. "I'm ready," she breathed, stopping by the table again. "How do I look?"

"Still great," Shaw answered, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Go have fun."

"Ok!" She headed across the room to where her purse sat on the kitchen counter, her heels clicking against the tiled floor. "I need you to do a favor for me today,"

Shaw raised an eyebrow. "What kind of favor?"

Sticking her hands into her purse, she looked over her shoulder, smirking at Shaw as she pulled out her wallet. "I need you to buy a suit."

"A suit?" Shaw repeated, surprised. "You want me to buy you a suit? I don't know your measurements."

Laughing, Root pulled a card from her wallet and dropped it back into her purse. She started toward Shaw. "It's not for me. Well, I suppose it is. I want you to buy yourself a suit for tonight." Entering the bedroom, she stood in front of the bed and held out a credit card. "It's on me."

Shaw clenched her jaw, torn between wanting a nice, well-made suit and not wanting to accept charity. "I can't take that."

Root rolled her eyes, dropping her arm. "Don't be stubborn. I'm not pitying you, or trying to make you feel bad. I'm actually being very selfish."

"You're being selfish," Shaw snorted disbelievingly. She uncrossed her legs, spreading them to make space for Root to step between them. Reaching out, she took Root's skirt in her fingers, tugging her close. Shaw looked up at Root's face. "How are you being selfish?"

"Because," Root said, knocking Shaw's hands away and pushing her legs closed. She lifted her skirt, climbing onto Shaw's lap, her knees on the bed, and wrapped her arms around Shaw's neck. "I want you to wear a suit, so I can take it off of you later."

Shaw's body grew warm, and she put her hands on Root's waist, rubbing her thumbs over her stomach. "You just want me to look like Reese."

Root's face scrunched up with distaste. "No." She relaxed her face, leaning forward and brushing her lips over Shaw's. "I want to see you. First, in a suit, looking devilishly handsome. Then, naked. I'm going to peel your jacket off, take my time unbuttoning your shirt, your pants, and I'm going to touch every last inch of you."

Swallowing hard, Shaw nodded and shrugged. "Yeah. Okay. I'll get- Where's the card?"

Root unwrapped an arm and held the card up. "Get a nice black suit, continental. Don't worry about cost. Actually, go to Ingram's in Ashburn. Tell him you work for Harold Finch. If you get there by lunch, you should be able to get some alterations done. Then, meet me at Gene and Georgetti's at seven."

"Yes, ma'am," Shaw laughed. "Whatever the lady wants."

"And don't you forget it!"

Root kissed her, lightly at first, and then with force. Shaw clutched her close, letting herself get lost in the feeling of Root's lips against her own. Heat pooled in her stomach and she tore her mouth away before she ended up taking Root now and making her miss her lecture. Root pressed a last, quick kiss on her lips and pulled away, sliding off Shaw and standing.

"Here you go," she said, handing Shaw the card. "You should wipe your mouth. You've got lipstick all over you."

Putting the card on the bed next to her, Shaw laughed as she looked at Root. "I think you need to fix your lipstick."

Root gasped, her hand flying to her face, and started out of the bedroom. "Now I'm really going to be late."

Shaw just smiled and watched her disappear into the bathroom again.

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With a bounce in her step, Root walked out of her third lecture, ready for lunch. She felt like this could be the best day of her life. She'd woken up next to Sameen and listened to three lecturers talk about technology. Later, she'd get to see Sameen in a suit, have sex with her, and there were still three days of lectures left.

Grinning, Root tucked her notebook into her purse and wandered down the hall to look for food. Waking up next to Sameen had been amazing. Root had asked for a wake up call from the front desk, and when the phone had rung, she had had to pry herself out of Sameen's tight grip to answer.

As soon as she'd hung up, Root had turned around to press a warm, sleepy kiss to Shaw's lips. She'd never been so happy to wake up before, to be near to someone immediately after waking, to be kept from moving by strong arms. It had been incredibly hard to get out of bed and leave the hotel room.

It had been a little bit disappointing when Shaw fell asleep the night before, but, truthfully, Root had been too tired to do anything either. The conference had intimidated her; it was so important and even just the taste she'd had so far was thrilling. Root wasn't sure how she was supposed to go back to normal life after this.

The conference hall was longer than she had expected. Because the last lecture hour before lunch had just ended, the hallway was packed with men in suits. She avoided looking at them, too aware of their eyes on her. There were a few other women in attendance, but it felt like every man was surprised to see her. She'd almost passed the last lecture room in the hall when a voice called out to her.

"Excuse me!" a woman's voice shouted from behind her. "Ma'am!"

Root stopped and looked over her shoulder. A young woman was hurrying towards her, wearing a brown dress a few years out of style. She was young, probably still a student, but Root recognized the hunger in her eyes. She wondered what sacrifices this girl would have to make to succeed.

"Hello," Root greeted. "Can I help you with something?"

"I'm a Systems Programmer. I work at NYU and I don't know any other women who work in the field, so I wanted to introduce myself." The young woman pushed her hair from her face. It'd either fallen from it's pins, or she never bothered putting it up at all. "My name is Claire Mahoney. I think your question about coupling was very interesting. I wish that geezer hadn't interrupted you. Maybe you can ask it tomorrow at the tele-printing panel."

Root chuckled, amused at how fast Claire could talk. She seemed almost frantic; her eyes wide and darting around the space, flicking between Root and the sea of men around them. Root adjusted her purse, moving it higher onto her shoulder.

"I'm Root," she said, smiling. "I work for Finch Systems in New York. I actually got my Master's degree at NYU. Class of '44."

"You're Samantha Groves!" Claire gasped. She took another step forward as Root winced at the use of her old name. "I've heard so much about you! Professor Claypool won't shut up about how you have a fancy government job now."

Root smirked. Claypool was a great guy, but he'd been a mediocre professor. She'd had to spend hours in the library to learn anything. Out of the sixty students in his class, Root was the only one who had gotten an A, but that was due to her own resourcefulness and skill, not his teaching.

"I guess I'm glad to hear he remembers me fondly," Root said, shrugging. "I work for a private company, though. We have a government contract."

Claire sighed dreamily, like Root had described something romantic. "I would love to work for Harold Finch. He's a genius. Was he the person you interviewed with? Have you met him?"

"I run the New York office," she admitted, "and he's my next door neighbor. So, yes, we've met."

"Please" Claire begged her, "let me buy you lunch. I need to talk to you, so that I can be you."

Root looked her over again. Claire's shoes were obviously old, fashionable at one point, but purely practical now. Her dress was a little bit big on her, like she'd lost weight recently. Meeting her eyes, she felt like she was staring into her past. Claire looked like she was yearning for a challenge, like she was ready to fight the world, but didn't know how.

Smiling softly, Root nodded. "How about I buy lunch instead? I have a feeling you could use a big meal."

Claire laughed as they started walking together. "I don't think I've eaten a big meal in years."

"I know the feeling!"

They left the hallway and stepped into a large lobby. Root had been planning to just get a sandwich at the buffet that had been set up in the corner, but she wanted to get Claire an actual meal. It would have been heaven to meet a woman in the field when Root was younger, someone who she could talk to about it all, and Root was glad that she could be that person for Claire. As they crossed the lobby, Claire asked another question.

"So, you're working on an acoustic coupler? I've thought about something similar, but obviously, I don't have the resources that you do."

Root brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. "I'm trying to connect two mainframes in different buildings. I think I've figured out how to code the messages and create an output, but I'm still working on how to actually get them from one building to another. I'm probably going to end up leasing phone lines."

"You were right that a vocoder won't do everything you want it to do." Claire fiddled with the strap of her leather bag. "Maybe… Some sort of modulator? If you're already using phone lines, then you could use tones to send messages? Like a modified Morse."

The thought had occurred to Root before. The biggest issue she was having was building an actual device to modulate the data on one end and demodulate it on the other. If she could make that, then the Department of Defense could just use their own secure phone lines to send the information. Anyone with the secure device would be able to access the Department's computers.

"You're smart," Root said. They reached the exit doors and she turned to push it open with her shoulder. "When do you graduate?"

"I just graduated at the end of May, actually," Claire answered. "I'm still working in their computer center, but it's a dead end job. I'm looking for other work."

Root grinned and stepped out into the warm Chicago air. She had two open jobs in her office, and she might turn this lunch into an interview. It was a funny twist of fate that she had to travel all the way to Chicago to meet someone who lived in New York. Claire was young, and ambitious; she would thrive under Root's care.

"Do you have a resume with you?" Root asked, looking at Claire as they turned left and started down the sidewalk.

Claire gasped and reached for her bag. "I do!"

"Hold your horses," Root laughed. "You don't need to take it out now. I'll look at it while we're eating."

"I'm so glad I came to this conference," Claire said loudly. She pushed her hair from her face again. "I wasn't going to, but Professor Claypool pushed me to. I'm going to go to a lecture every hour. Hey, are you going to the mixer tomorrow night?"

Pushing her purse higher onto her shoulder, Root nodded. "I am." She took a deep breath of fresh air, feeling happier than she had in a long time. "I even brought a date."

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Shaw patted her chest, feeling the hard fabric of her bindings beneath her shirt. She'd gone to Ingram's at Root's suggestion, getting there just after noon. It had only taken a moment for Mr. Ingram to find her a tux, but now she was lingering in the fitting room. She had to make sure that the lines of the suit were right. It would be terrible for Mr. Ingram to realize she wasn't a man.

She'd been binding for years now, and it felt good, comfortable. Shaw liked being a woman, didn't have any issues with it, but other people did. So, she'd leaned in to her masculinity and now she felt much better in men's clothing than in women's. She pushed her sleeves up and brushed her hands down her bound chest one more time, nodding.

Opening the door, she carefully stepped out of the fitting room into the general dressing area. Ingram's was a very fancy store, a place Shaw wouldn't even have considered in other circumstances. The dressing area was fairly large, several small stages were set up in front of tri-fold mirrors and there were two circular couches in the center of the room.

Mr Ingram was standing beside the first stage, a measuring table hanging around his neck and a pin cushion on his wrist. He smiled at her, gesturing for her to step up onto the stage. The legs of the suit were very long, and she almost had to walk on her toes to avoid stepping on them.

"Oh dear," Mr. Ingram said. "I will definitely shorten those for you."

"And the sleeves," Shaw added, keeping her voice low. She held an arm out, her whole hand hidden. "I think this suit was made for someone your size."

He shrugged, unconcerned, and knelt beside her. "I usually custom make women's suits."

Shaw tensed. She wasn't sure if he was just mentioning this or if she had not passed as well as she'd thought. He didn't seem angry or upset, but Shaw knew that men could seem calm and still be violent. She laughed awkwardly.

"Women," she tried to joke. "Always needing special care."

He reached to the side, picking up a small plastic stick, and glanced up at her. "Your secret is safe with me, Ms. Shaw. I wouldn't tell, even if you weren't a friend of Harold's."

"Thank you."

The tension drained from Shaw and she looked at herself in the mirror for the first time. Other than her too long sleeves and the pant legs that Mr. Ingram was marking, she looked good. The pants sat at her waist, her crisp white shirt tucked in tight. A silky black cumberbund covered her waist and helped to hide the curve of her hips. At dinner, she would probably keep her jacket on, the wide lapels would help hide her chest.

Mr. Ingram finished marking the back of her pant legs and stood up. "Is this for a special occasion?"

"I'm going to dinner," Shaw answered, holding an arm out to him. "I'm in town with my… I'm in town for a conference."

He smiled at her as he started to fold her sleeve. "That sounds nice. It's your first time in Chicago?"

She nodded. "It is."

Finishing on her first arm, he walked to her other side. "Do you need any recommendations? I know a few subtle places."

His meaning didn't miss her and she smirked. "We have reservations at Gino and Georgetti's. It's Italian apparently."

"It's a nice restaurant," he said. "I go there often. That can't be the only place you're visiting."

"Actually, a friend gave me the address to a bar. 'Pierced,' it's called."

Mr. Ingram laughed, pulling a pin from his wrists. "I'm familiar. That's only a few blocks from here. I can point you in the right direction when we're done here."

"Thanks."

He finished pinning her quickly, and she went back to the fitting room. It was still lunch time, and she could go to the bar while she waited for Mr. Ingram to finish her suit. If the bar ended up being a good place, Shaw could always bring Root there. She'd probably like that.

Once she had hung her suit back up and put her own clothing on, Shaw left the fitting room again. Mr. Ingram was waiting for her, that same, familiar smile on his face. She gave him the suit.

"Will it be ready by six?" Shaw asked him. "My dinner is at seven."

"It should only take me an hour or so," he answered, leading her back into the main store. "Just come back when you're ready and pick it up."

She gave him a tight smile and started walking to the door. He followed her, jumping forward to push the door open for her. As she passed, she nodded at him and then stepped out onto the sidewalk. It was a warm day, and she was glad that she'd only worn a t-shirt instead of her usual leather jacket.

"Shaw," Mr. Ingram said from the doorway. He smiled kindly when she turned to him. "Pierced is two blocks north and one block west. It has a green sign. I think you'll find Logan to be quite entertaining."

She raised an eyebrow. "I've never heard 'entertaining' used to mean anything other than 'talkative' or 'obnoxious.'"

He laughed. "And that's how I mean it, too. He's a good man, though. Tell him I sent you."

"I feel like I'm being passed around," she said. "All this word-of-mouth and friends-of-friends."

He shrugged, his smile flagging. He looked thoughtful. "I'm afraid we are still too illegitimate to be in the phone book," he replied, sounding sad. "You'll find us around, in the shadows. Don't worry about your dinner tonight. If anyone gives you trouble, mention me, or Harold. And, Shaw?"

"Yes?"

"Have fun." He winked at her. "Young people in love should always be happy."

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Root hurried down the street, tugging her gloves on while awkwardly juggling her small handbag. She'd left the conference later than she'd wanted to and didn't even leave the hotel room until seven. She'd taken a taxi most of the way, but when traffic started to slow, she'd gotten out to walk. It hadn't been her plan to change out of her conference dress, but she'd had to change her underwear anyway. Root smiled to herself as she imagined Sameen's face when she saw Root's gift.

Turning the corner, she spotted Sameen standing in front of Gino and Georgetti's. Her hands were deep in the pockets of her tuxedo, and her head was tilted back so she could look at the sky. Root slowed, taking in the sight of Sameen in her suit, looking handsome and calm.

"Sameen," Root said as she got closer. "I'm sorry I'm late."

Sameen turned towards her, raising an eyebrow. "I was beginning to think this was some elaborate plan to leave me alone in Chicago."

"I wouldn't leave you here," Root laughed. "You have my credit card!"

Rolling her eyes, Sameen pulled her hands from her pockets and looked Root over. Her face gave nothing away as she took Root in, her eyes sliding down to look at Root's shoes and then back up to her hair. Root had worn a burgundy dress that hugged her chest and arms and flowed down to her knees. Sameen's eyes met hers and she knew she'd made the right choice.

"You look nice," Sameen said quietly. "You're really beautiful."

Root blushed, feeling flattered and embarrassed. It wasn't the first time she'd been called beautiful, but it felt different now. Sameen really saw her and still thought that she was beautiful. Root knew that Sameen thought she was smart, too, and interesting. She smiled.

"Thank you," she breathed. "You look beautiful, too. Handsome, I mean."

Sameen winked at her, nodding to the door. "Are you ready?" she asked. "I went inside and told them that you were running late."

"I'm ready."

Sameen nodded at her, the corners of her mouth lifting into a small smile, and walked to the door. She pulled it open, stepping aside for Root to walk in first. Looking around, Root was glad that she'd chosen this restaurant. It was large, a family-owned Italian restaurant that was known for attracting celebrities. She didn't care too much about that, but she could eat her weight in pasta and figured that if it was good enough for Marlon Brando, it was good enough for her. They stopped in front of the host's small desk and he smiled at them.

"Your wife has arrived!" the host said cheerfully. "Right this way."

Root flushed when he called her Sameen's wife. It made her heart pound in her chest. The idea of being a wife didn't scare her, if it was with Sameen. It felt exciting, like she would be bound to someone who truly knew her, who would support her. Root could imagine living in a house together, waking up early to have breakfast and talking late into the night.

"Root?" Sameen said, snapping Root out of her day dream.

Looking around, Root realized that they'd started walking and she'd lagged behind. Smiling apologetically, she closed the distance and followed Sameen and the host through the main dining room to a smaller room in the back. The restaurant was cute, feeling both fancy and welcoming.

"This is your table," the host said, gesturing to a table in the corner.

Root flashed him a smile and reached for her chair, but Sameen got there first. Root grinned as Sameen pulled her chair back, looking at her expectantly. Smoothing her skirt under her, Root sat down, letting Sameen push her chair back in. When Root was settled, her handbag on the table out of the way, Sameen walked around the table and dropped into her own seat.

The host gave them menus and left them at the table. Root glanced over the food options, deciding to get something filling, but light. She didn't want to be too full later. Looking over her menu at Sameen, Root laughed.

Sameen's face was drawn down into a frown as she tried to pick a meal. When Root laughed, Sameen glanced up at her, the frown deepening.

"What?" Shaw asked her, brow drawing down. "What are you laughing at?"

"You look like you want to murder your menu," Root answered. "Too many options for you?"

"Actually, yes." Sameen rolled her eyes and put her menu down. "I'm just getting spaghetti. I don't need these many options."

Root just smiled at her, closing her own menu and putting it aside. "Sounds good."

A waiter appeared beside them, notepad in his hands. "Hello," he greeted. "Welcome to Gino and Georgetti's. What brings you here tonight?"

"Nathan Ingram suggested it," Sameen said before Root could answer. "He spoke highly of it."

Root frowned. She'd been the one who suggested the restaurant and she wasn't sure why Sameen was mentioning the suit maker now. The waiter gasped, and Root looked at him. He was standing straighter now, his face lit up.

"You're a friend of Mr. Ingram's?" the waiter asked.

"I am," Sameen answered, sounding confident. Her eyes slid over to Root's, sparkling with humor. "I just spent the afternoon with him. Harold Finch actually introduced us."

Mr. Finch's name seemed to excite the waiter even more. "You must be Shaw. Mr. Ingram just called us and asked us to set aside a bottle of wine for you. I'll get it now."

"Thank you," Sameen said regally. She watched him walk away and then turned to face Root. "So, how was your day?"

Root stared at her, shocked. "How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

Narrowing her eyes, Root crossed her arms. A smile tugged at her lips, even as she pretended to be upset. "I sent you to buy a suit and you manage to charm Mr. Ingram. He bought you a bottle of wine!"

Sameen smirked, leaning back in her chair. "Let's just say that he and I are on the same team, and players stick together."

Getting the message, Root let the smile spread across her face. "I suppose it's good to have influential friends."

"It is," Sameen answered. "I also met the owner of Pierced, Logan, and got the password to his dancehall. We should go this weekend."

Thinking about going dancing with Sameen made Root's heart soar. A part of her was afraid that choosing Sameen meant that they wouldn't be able to do normal things anymore. She was worried that being out together could get them in trouble, that they would always have to pretend to be friends. It was comforting to know that Sameen knew how to find places where they could be themselves, together.

"Yeah," Root agreed. "Saturday night. Let's go dancing."

"Great!" Shaw grinned at her, too smug for her own good. "Now, tell me about your conference."

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Shaw looked out the taxi window at the city. Dinner had gone really well, no awkward silences and no suspicious looks from strangers. She'd never been to such an expensive restaurant, but it had been nice to spend the time with Root, without hiding.

The whole day had been strange. She wasn't used to waking up beside someone, much less someone she hadn't had sex with, but it was something she knew she could get used to. Root was cool and soft, her body fit perfectly against Shaw's as they lay tangled together. It was something that Shaw knew she could get used to.

The problem was that Shaw didn't know if she wanted to get used to it. Relationships had never been her thing. What made Root different? What if they had sex and Shaw realized that's all she had wanted?

She clenched her fists in her lap. Emotions had never been easy for her, and she was almost convinced she didn't have them at all. It would be so easy for her to just shut down and move away. The thought of leaving Root behind made her stomach turn.

Shaw didn't know why she was so drawn to Root. Was it her intelligence? Enthusiasm? Beauty? There was something about Root that made Shaw want to know more, want to stay with her until she knew her inside and out. It was a scary thought, and one that Shaw was having trouble pushing away.

She leaned her head against the window. Her usual excuses to stay out of a relationship were that she was too busy, that she had other things to focus on, that she just didn't like the person well enough. None of that worked with Root. All that Shaw could focus on was Root, what new experience she could give Root, what Root could show her, where they should go and what they should do.

Right now, she was thinking about kissing Root. They were only a couple blocks from the hotel and Shaw could feel her body heat as she thought about seeing Root naked, touching her, tasting her. Whatever nervousness and shyness Root had when they met seemed to be gone now.

A hand covered her fist and Shaw looked down. Root's gloved hand pushed itself into Shaw's tight fist, forcing her to relax. Their fingers laced together easily. Taking a deep breath, Shaw looked at Root.

She was smiling, her face mostly hidden in shadow. She looked happy and that made Shaw's chest warm. They didn't have to last forever. Dating wasn't marriage. Shaw could enjoy the right now and that would be good enough.

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Root opened the door to the hotel room, walking inside slowly. She was shivering with anticipation, her heart racing in her chest, but she didn't want to be overly enthusiastic and scare Sameen away. Going to the kitchen, Root put her purse on the counter and started pulling her gloves off. Behind her, she could hear Sameen stepping out of her shoes.

"That was nice," Root said. "Thank you for going to dinner with me."

"It was just dinner," Sameen muttered. "I didn't even pay."

Putting her gloves down, Root turned, leaning back against the counter. "I like spending time with you. It's wonderful to be together and not have anywhere else to be."

"Or anyone else to be with?"

"That, too."

Sameen sauntered forward, her hands moving her jacket aside and slipping into her pants' pockets. She looked like a movie star, like Marlene Dietrich. Root took a deep breath, smoothing down the front of her dress. Her whole body was trembling and Sameen looked her over, smiling. She stopped in front of Root.

"Nervous?" Sameen asked her, pulling one hand out and tucking a strand of hair behind Root's ear. "We don't have to do anything."

Root jumped forward, grabbing Sameen's face and kissing her desperately. Shaw pushed her into the counter, hands clutching at her hips. Their bodies lined up perfectly, and Root sighed happily into Shaw's mouth. She wasn't going to let anything stop them tonight.

She pulled away just enough to speak. "I'm not nervous," Root breathed, brushing her lips against Sameen's. "I've never wanted anything more than this."

Sameen kissed her again, grip tightening for just a moment, before stepping away. She took Root's hand and raised an eyebrow. "Come on."

They walked to the bedroom. Root grinned as Sameen led her forward, filled with excitement. She had never been more ready for something in her life. Knowing that she was so close to touching Sameen, seeing her naked on purpose, made heat gather in Root's stomach.

When they stepped into the bedroom, Root pulled her hand away. "Sit," she told Sameen, pointing to the foot of the bed. "You have to help me undress."

Sameen's eyes widened and she turned around to sit on the bed. Even though Sameen wasn't shivering with anticipation like she was, Root could tell that she was ready. Her eyes were dark with desire and a soft flush filled her cheeks. Her lips parted and she took a long breath..

Root gathered her skirt in her hands, lifting it slowly until the clasps of her stockings were visible. Shaw's eyes dropped to them and she watched as Root lifted a foot onto her thigh. Sameen reached for Root's shoe immediately, unbuckling the thin strap. When it was open, she gently lifted Root's foot and took the shoe off, tossing it carelessly aside.

Her hands moved up Root's silk-covered calf achingly slow. She put Root's foot on her shoulder, leaning forward to press her lips against the delicate fabric. Kissing Root's calf, she undid the clasps that held the stocking up. Dark eyes met Root's as she started pulling the silk down.

Root shivered as Sameen kissed her bare skin. Root could only describe the look in Sameen's eyes as hungry. Danger radiated from her and Root felt like prey, like she was going to be toyed with and then devoured whole. It would be wonderful.

Tossing Root's stocking aside, Sameen moved her foot down and gestured for Root to lift the other one. She did and Sameen took her shoe off quickly. She put Root's foot on the bed beside her hip.

Releasing the clasp of her stocking, Sameen's hands started moving up Root's thigh, reaching under her skirt. Root caught them quickly, stopping them in their path. She raised her eyebrows.

"Not yet."

Sameen frowned. "Is something wrong?"

"Just undress me."

Nodding, Sameen looked a little bit hesitant. Root knew that the look would disappear once she saw what Root was wearing beneath her dress. Sameen tugged the silk stocking down, kissing Root's bare thigh as she went. Root sighed as heat shot through her body.

Sameen was being so gentlemanly, and she looked so handsome in her suit. Root wouldn't be able to control herself much longer. Every inch of skin that Sameen touched burned, and she had to suck in a breath as Sameen tossed her stocking aside.

Root moved forward to straddle Sameen like she had that morning. Her knees sunk into the bed and she settled onto Sameen's legs. Her skirt rode up her thighs, helped along by strong hands. Root took her thin belt off, letting it fall to the floor.

Dipping her head, Root brushed their lips together. Sameen's mouth trembled against hers at the soft touch and Root grinned. She couldn't believe she affected Sameen this much, made someone so gorgeous and experienced quiver at her touch. It made Root feel powerful.

She nipped at Sameen's bottom lip, her hips bucking forward on their own. She needed Sameen to touch her or she was going to cry. "Unzip my dress," she ordered.

Sameen kissed her, tongue pushing into Root's mouth and making her groan. Root couldn't keep still, hips and breasts pressing into Sameen's chest as muscular arms reached around her to pull the zipper of her dress down. Sameen tugged the dress down Root's arms, revealing the lacy, black lingerie that Root bought just for Sameen.

Sameen tore her mouth away to look at Root and tensed. She drank in the sight of Root's breasts, pink nipples visible through the sheer lace. She still held Root's dress in her hands, forgotten as she stared.

No one had ever looked at Root like this before, like she was a work of art to be savored. The intensity of Sameen's gaze excited Root and made her nervous. She'd always been too skinny and her breasts had always been too small. She wished she had Sameen's curves and confidence. Root swallowed, nervous that Sameen would see all her flaws.

Finally, Sameen's eyes met hers again, deep and unreadable. Root licked her lips. She smiled, shivering.

"Do you like it?"

One of Sameen's hands cupped the back of Root's neck and tugged her down. Sameen kissed her deeply, her other hand gliding over Root's stomach to cover her breast. The lace was no barrier and Root gasped at the feeling of Sameen's hot hands on her sensitive skin.

"You're perfect," Shaw sighed against Root's mouth. "You're so beautiful. It's just cruel."

Laughing, Root leaned backward. "It's cruel?"

Sameen nodded, her eyes dropping to Root's breasts again. "How am I supposed to let you wear clothing again when you look like this? Hiding your breasts away should be a crime."

Root grinned, lifting Sameen's face with her hands so they could kiss again. It amazed her how happy she was and how easy it was to be this close, this naked, with Sameen. Her self-consciousness couldn't help but melt away after a comment like that. If she could affect Sameen like this, then there couldn't be too much to be insecure about.

Sameen's mouth moved along Root's jaw, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses on Root's skin. She bit Root's neck lightly, drawing a moan from her. Both of her hands covered Root's breasts now, squeezing them through the lace. Root let her head fall backward, trusting Sameen to keep her from falling.

Sameen yanked her bra down, exposing Root's breasts. Root reached behind herself to hold Sameen's knees, arching her back. She groaned as Sameen's lips wrapped around her nipple, sending heat down her body. If she had any doubts that she was attracted to women, that she wanted Sameen sexually, they were gone now.

She felt like she could climax just from this. Sameen's mouth moved to her other breast, her hand covering the now bare one. Root gasped, her hips jumping forward as teeth carefully tugged at her nipple, mixing pain and pleasure. It was like she was a bomb ready to explode, like each one of Sameen's touches was the one that would send her over the edge. Her hips moved helplessly, desperate for more.

If Root came now, what would happen? Would that be the end of it? She wanted to touch Sameen, but she'd imagined hours of sex, not minutes. Would Sameen be willing to continue? Could they keep going?

Her questions were cut off as the next surge of heat swept through her. Her muscles tightened as she came, fingers clutching at Sameen's pants. Sameen's mouth didn't relent. She swirled her tongue around Root's nipple, hands on Root's waist to hold her in place. Body relaxing, Root gasped for air, lifting her head.

Sameen released her breast with a pop, raising her eyebrows. "That was quick."

"Sorry," Root replied sheepishly. She let go of Sameen's knees, moving her hands to her shoulders instead. "I wanted this to last longer."

"Well," Sameen said, smirking, "you're not done yet."

Root perked up. "I'm not?"

Sighing, Sameen guided Root backwards, helping her stand on shaking legs. "I have a lot to teach you. Drop your dress."

Grinning, Root pushed her dress down off her hips and it hit the floor silently. She stepped out of it, kicking it aside. Warm hands on her hips made her jump. She turned to see Sameen looking over her underwear, the same black lace as her bra. Sameen tugged her closer.

"Do you like it?" Root whispered, hooded eyes on Sameen's face. "You're the only one who's seen it."

Blinking, Sameen looked up at her. "Really?"

"Yeah." Root ran her fingers through Sameen's hair. "I wanted to give you something special."

Sameen sniffed, nodding. Her eyes darted away and she stood quickly, taking her jacket off. Root laughed at the way the tips of her ears had turned red. She started unbuttoning Shaw's shirt with practiced fingers. It was her turn to take in her lover.

Tossing her jacket aside, Sameen pushed Root's hands away and nodded to the bed. "Lie down."

Root jumped onto the bed, moving up to the pillows and dropping onto her back. She watched as Sameen realized that she had to take off her cummerbund and angrily tore it off. When it was gone, Sameen untucked her shirt and opened the final buttons.

Root ran her fingers over her stomach, growing warm again at the sight of Sameen's body. Her chest was wrapped tightly, compressing her breasts. Glancing over her shoulder, Sameen met Root's eyes and turned to face her. Slowly, she began to unwrap herself. She moved deliberately, not performing for Root, but letting her see.

Dipping a hand between her legs, Root ran her fingers over soft lace, feeling how wet she was. Hands stilling, Sameen watched as Root touched herself through the sheer underwear. Speeding up again, Sameen finished unwrapping her chest and took a deep breath as she let the wrap fall. Her full breasts were bare and Root felt her heart skip a beat.

"I need you here with me," Root said softly, brushing her free hand over her breasts. "Hurry up."

Sameen opened her belt and pants and tugged them down as fast as she could without ripping them. She wore black underwear, too, but instead of lingerie, they were men's underwear. The elastic hugged her waist and emphasized the curve of her hips. Root sat up, taking in Sameen's body in a way she couldn't before.

"Please," Root said, not caring how desperate she sounded. "Come here."

Sameen was on her in an instant, hips pressing between Root's legs. The pressure was wonderful and Root lifted her hips, trying to get some much needed friction. Sameen kissed her, mouth insistent and needy. Wrapping her arms around Sameen's waist, Root held her close.

Their breasts pressed together and Root almost cried. She couldn't believe how right this felt and how long she had gone without knowing. How had she ever pretended like she didn't want this? Sameen's soft skin and hard muscle made Root feel real. It grounded her and made her burn at the same time.

Sameen reached under Root to unclip her bra. "As amazing as this bra is, I want to see you," Sameen said softly, taking the bra off her and getting rid of it. She sat up, looking down at Root with dark eyes. "Worth the wait."

Smiling, Root took Sameen's breasts in her hands, feeling how soft they were. She ran her thumbs over hard nipples and watched as Sameen's mouth dropped open, absorbing every detail. Sameen's hips pushed into Root's and they both moaned. Stretching upwards, Root kissed the soft underside of Shaw's breast, dragging her tongue up to her nipple and closing her lips around it.

Sameen groaned, her hand flying to hold Root's side. "You're a natural," she joked, breathless.

Copying Sameen, Root nipped lightly at her nipple. She was rewarded with a gasp and smiled. "Maybe you're just easy."

Rolling her eyes, Sameen pushed Root back onto the bed and kissed her again. Even though she had just finished, Root needed Sameen to touch her again. She wanted to feel Sameen inside her, wanted to fall apart beneath her. She took Sameen's face in her hands, tugging on her short hair.

"Fuck me."

Sameen groaned into Root's mouth, lifting her head. "Don't curse," she said, eyes closed. "It's too much."

Raising an eyebrow, Root realized the power she held. "Isn't this what you wanted? Me, under you, begging to be… fucked."

Growling, Sameen reached between them and thrust two fingers into Root. Eyes slamming shut, Root gasped, legs falling open. Sameen's hot mouth latched onto Root's breast as she curled her fingers inside, making Root's toes curl. Falling into a rhythm, Sameen's fingers stroked in and out of Root, her other arm supporting her weight as she hovered over Root.

With each thrust, Root gasped, not caring how she sounded. She couldn't bring herself to stay quiet and she didn't have to fake her pleasure. It was overwhelming and wonderful and everything she'd hoped it would be. Opening her eyes, she grabbed Sameen's face and pulled her up, crashing their mouths together.

Sameen surrounded her. They were flush against each other, breasts pressed together, and Root could barely think. She wanted to live in this moment forever. Her body shook and she knew she was getting close again. Sameen's fingers disappeared from inside her to rub circles over her clit and Root's mind short-circuited. She jerked beneath Sameen, body frantically straining to finish.

"Sameen," Root choked, opening her eyes. They met Sameen's, almost entirely black. "I've wanted this for so long."

Panting, Sameen nodded. "I pictured this. You. Beneath me."

Root came hard, her breath leaving her as her whole body quaked. Her hands gripped Sameen's biceps and her nails dug into the firm muscle. Sameen kept touching her, kept her on the edge. Root cried out, mind clouding as she tried to breathe. Finally, she shot an arm between them to grab Sameen's hand and make her stop.

"How was that?" Sameen asked, sounding smug and breathless. "Better than you expected?"

Root laughed, her heart pounding in her chest, and let go of Sameen's hand. She covered her face, half-sure she was dreaming. "A million times better." She took a deep breath and moved her hands to the pillow under her head. "Wow."

Gently tracing patterns on Root's stomach, Sameen pursed her lips. "Any regrets?"

"No." Root smiled. "None at all. In fact…" She moved her hands to the waistband of Sameen's underwear.. "I'm ready for the next step."

Sameen's eyelashes fluttered and she swallowed. "You don't have to," she told Root. Her body was flushed and she had clearly been affected by seeing Root gasp and moan beneath her. Her hips lifted toward Root's. "I'm not asking you to."

Not bothering to reply, Root slid a hand into Sameen's underwear and dipped her fingers into the wetness between her legs. Sameen's mouth dropped open, eyes falling shut. Root brushed her fingers against Sameen, marveling in how much Sameen needed her. Sliding her index finger inside, Root curled it, making Sameen's head drop and a sigh fall from her lips.

"I want to touch you," Root said softly. "Do you want me to touch you?"

Nodding, Sameen met her gaze. Root could see the craving in her wide pupils, feel her tremble against her. She looked like a goddess, wild and dangerous and beautiful. Root wrapped her free hand around the back of Sameen's neck and tugged her down, kissing her as she added a second finger inside Sameen.

Sameen whimpered, the arms that held her up shaking. Grinning into Sameen's mouth, Root pulled her hand out of her underwear. That earned her a frustrated grunt and Sameen lifted her head.

"Why'd you stop?"

Grabbing Sameen's hips, Root rolled them over, flipping her hair out of her face. She ground her hips down on Sameen's, moaning at the feeling. Sameen stared up at her, panting. Her fingers grasped the sheets as Root spread her hands over well-defined stomach muscles. Root tugged Sameen's underwear down to uncover her stomach, needing to fully touch the muscle she'd only looked at before.

Sameen twitched under her hands, hips bucking up against Root. "Touch me," she tried to order. It sounded more like begging.

Root leaned forward, tilting her head to smirk down at Sameen. "A lady always gets what she wants."

Scooting backwards, Root moved between Sameen's legs. She pulled her underwear off, chuckling as Sameen awkwardly lifted her legs. Throwing it aside, Root eagerly pushed Sameen's legs apart. She lay down between them, glancing up as Sameen gasped.

Root smirked. "I'm not a prude, Sameen. Just a little inexperienced. I think you're already so close that it isn't going to matter."

To prove her point, she kissed the inside of Sameen's thigh, making her jump. Sameen just glared down at her for a second before grinning.

"We'll see."

Root wrapped her arms around Sameen's thighs, spreading her hands over sharp hip bones. Pressing her face forward, Root slowly dragged her tongue over sensitive skin. Above her, Sameen moaned, voice thick like molasses. Root grinned and did it again.

Before tonight, she'd been nervous that she wouldn't know what to do, that she wouldn't be good at it, that she wouldn't like it. She'd been worried for nothing. Sameen's moans and gasps were spurring Root on. Root wanted to do this forever. Sameen's taste was addictive. Now that Root knew both sides of it, she wasn't sure she'd ever leave this bed again.

Sameen's hands clutched at Root's and Root looked up, meeting black eyes. She moved her mouth away, replacing it with her hand. Lifting herself up, she crawled upward, covering Sameen, and keeping her fingers moving. As intoxicating as Sameen's taste was, Root wanted to watch her.

She looked down at Sameen, taking in her furrowed brow and short, hard breaths. Her eyes kept fluttering shut, but she opened them to look up at Root. Sameen bent her knees, letting her legs fall open even more. Root slipped her hand down, finding Sameen's entrance and pushing two fingers inside.

Sameen groaned, hands flying up to Root's waist, her grip tight and slightly painful. Root leaned down and took one of Sameen's nipples in her mouth. She thrust her fingers quickly, curling them inside Sameen. Sameen's heart was racing under Root and she moved again, kissing Sameen and drinking in her moans.

Sameen turned her head, sucking in air. Her whole body was shaking under Root, face and chest red. Root could feel Sameen clench around her fingers and added a third. Her imagination paled in comparison to the real thing. She hadn't known how good Sameen would feel and taste, or how much she would enjoy watching Sameen enjoy her touch.

Sameen gasped, her fingers tightening even more on Root's sides. Hissing, Root buried her face in Sameen's neck, ignoring the pain and listening to Sameen's breathy moans.

Sameen's breathing stopped as her hips bucked and Root lifted herself quickly to see her face. Sameen's mouth was open, eyes screwed tight. Root watched as her throat worked, trying to breathe. She slowed her fingers and pulled them out.

Sameen's body relaxed, dropping back onto the bed. A thin sheen of sweat covered her flushed body. Root took her in, looking over her whole body and feeling accomplished. Sex with Sameen was her new favorite thing, and she was ready to forget about the rest of the conference.

Blinking her eyes open, Sameen looked up at her, a smile tugging at her lips. "Not too bad," she rasped. "You're a natural."

Root snorted, laying down next to Sameen. "I've had a lot of time to think about it."

Sameen rolled onto her side, facing Root. She put her hand on Root's waist, rubbing her fingers lightly over where she'd been holding on. Root could tell that she'd have bruises later, but she didn't care. She'd just had sex with a woman for the first time, with Sameen, and nothing could bring her down.

She cupped Sameen's cheek with her hand, and leaned forward to kiss her. Their bodies pressed close, breasts pushing together and legs tangling. Root couldn't stop herself from smiling, and she wrapped her arms around Sameen's shoulders, turning on her back and pulling Sameen on top of her.

Root felt happy, really happy, for the first time in a long time. She'd given up hope that she'd ever have the life she wanted, that she'd have the love she wanted. It had been so long since she'd been herself, had let herself think about women, about kissing them and being with them.

Then, Sameen had showen up and knocked her out of her pattern. Sameen saw her for who she really was and liked her for it. Sameen had given her this chance. Root pushed her fingers into Sameen's hair, deepening the kiss. This was where she always wanted to be.

She didn't know if she loved Sameen; they hadn't known each other for that long. She knew that she'd never forget Sameen now, no matter what happened. Root wasn't sure how she was supposed to go back to her regular life. How could she keep dating John? How could she kiss anyone else? Sameen was filling her senses and she didn't want to ever let that go.

Sameen pulled away as Root gasped. "Root? Are you ok?"

Root nodded, wiping tears away. "Yeah," she answered, keeping her eyes closed. "I'm fine."

"I might not be good with feelings, but I know that tears usually mean sad."

Root shrugged, her shoulders brushing against the sheets and opened her eyes. "I'm not sad. I'm really happy."

"Happy tears," Sameen said wryly. "Well, I had a fifty-fifty chance."

Chuckling, Root rolled her eyes, wiping her face again. "Can we stay in Chicago forever? Just… stay in this bed?"

"Well, we would have to leave the bed for food eventually," Sameen pointed out. "I guess we could get room service. Ok, I'm convinced. Chicago forever."

Root laughed, lightly smacking Sameen's shoulder. "You'd abandon your friends like that?"

"They'd understand." Sameen slid off Root onto the bed, but left their legs tangled together. She propped herself up on her elbow to look down at Root. "I don't think I'll stay in New York forever, anyway."

"Oh, yeah?" Root asked. She wondered if she would stay in New York forever. It would be nice to see more of America, and it'd be even nicer to see it from the back of Sameen's motorcycle. "I could leave New York."

Sameen's face grew guarded and Root wondered if she'd said something wrong. Had Sameen meant that she would leave Root behind? Root suddenly realized that this could all be sexual for Sameen. Maybe she didn't care about Root like that. Had Root been presumptuous?

"I wouldn't ask you to leave your job," Sameen said quietly. "You have a nice life."

Root frowned. "It's a lot better now that you're in it. I can't go back to how I was before. Even if we aren't serious, even if this isn't a relationship, I can't go back. I was lying to myself. I lied to myself for years. This is the closest I've felt to who I am since I was a kid. I can work on computers anywhere."

Sameen's eyelids fluttered and she looked away, sniffing. "Do you want a relationship? That's not usually my thing."

"I want whatever you'll give me, Sameen." Root ran her fingers over Sameen's stomach, feeling the muscles she'd been thinking about for months. "I don't need anymore than what we have."

"What do we have?"

"We have… movie nights, spending time with your friends, this." Root smiled tenderly. "I just want to be near you. We don't have to take it too seriously right now. Unless… you want to?"

Sameen took a deep breath. "I don't know. What I want right now… " She looked at Root. "I want to touch you again."

"Again?" Root echoed, surprised. "More?"

Laughing, Sameen nodded, pushing herself up and climbing on top of Root. "I'm not Reese," she said, smug. "I can go all night long."

Root raised an eyebrow. "Prove it."


	17. A Lust For Life

Shaw shifted her weight and looked around the lobby. Root has asked her to come to the conference's mixer and she'd agreed, even though it felt like a waste of time. They could be drinking at a bar, or dancing, or having sex again. It was Friday night. It felt like a shame to spend it in a dim conference room, surrounded by men in suits.

She shoved her hands into her pockets. Root had told her that this wasn't a tuxedo kind of event, so she'd just worn a nice button down and a pair of black slacks. The people she'd seen milling around and going into the party had been dressed similarly, so she knew she'd made the right decision. No one had given her a second glance, and she guessed that women were so rare at things like this that they all just assumed she was a man.

She was glad for the pass, but it annoyed her sometimes, too. As nice as it was to have freedom in public, Shaw wished she could have that same freedom as a woman. It was frustrating to have to pass as a man to be safe. She wanted to live her life, with Root, as herself.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of someone watching her. Shaw raised an eyebrow, finding it ironic how she was just complaining about being seen as a man and now someone had clocked her. She looked around, squaring her shoulders.

It was a woman, leaning against the wall in the far corner of the lobby. She looked young, 25 at most, and her dress was a little bit out of date. She was staring at Shaw intensely, her hands clutching the strap of her purse. Nodding quickly, the girl started toward her.

"Hello," she said as she closed the distance between them. "My name is Claire. What's yours?"

Shaw's other eyebrow lifted and she couldn't stop an impressed smile. Most women, especially young ones, were intimidated enough by her to stay away. "Shaw."

Claire stopped in front of her, looking her over quickly. "Shaw? Is that a first name or a last name?"

"What's it to you?" Shaw turned to face her, crossing her arms.

"Just wondering," she answered. Claire shook her head, tossing stray strands of hair from her face. "So, what brings a hot guy like you to a conference like this? You can't be a Systems Programmer, not dressed like that."

Shaw laughed, surprised at Claire's audacity. "I'm sorry," she said, taking a breath. "I'm just not used to women being so forward."

"Well, get used to it." Claire's hands tightened around her purse strap and she lifted her chin. "It's a new world. Women can be bold now."

"I believe you." Shaw held up her hands, still smiling. "I just don't think I'm what you're looking for. I'm not your sort of… hot guy."

Claire's eyes narrowed and she looked Shaw over again. This time, her eyes lingered on the way Shaw's shirt stuck slightly to her wrap, and the way her pants hugged her hips, but hung loosely in front. She opened her mouth to speak, but another voice interrupted her.

"Shaw!" Root called from across the lobby.

Winking at Claire, Shaw swung around, dropping her arms. Root looked gorgeous, like always. Even though Shaw had seen her in the morning, she took her in as she approached. Root looked best in burgundy, Shaw thought. Her dress, tight to her waist and flowy loosely to her knees, was elegant, bringing out the red in Root's hair and the pink in her cheeks.

Shaw mentally rolled her eyes. She was only thinking like that because they'd been up so late last night. Root grinned at her, a glint in her eye telling Shaw that she was thinking the same sort of thing. Shaw strolled forward.

"Hey," she greeted Root. She stopped a few feet away, aware that they were still in public. "You look nice."

Root reached out to straighten Shaw's collar, stepping close and pressing their bodies together. "Thank you. So do you. Very handsome." She pressed a quick kiss to Shaw's lips. "You look like a man," Root whispered. "I like it because it means I can kiss you here, but after this, I want you naked, and all woman."

Shaw sighed, voice rumbling in her throat. "Do we have to go to this? You've spent all day with these losers. Spend some time with me."

A cough made Shaw look over her shoulder. Claire still stood there, hands on her hips. She looked between them.

"Oh," Root chuckled, embarrassed. "Have you two met? Shaw, this is Claire."

"We've met," Claire answered. "I didn't know you two know each other, though."

Shaw moved away from Root, putting a professional distance between them. Root tucked her hair behind her ears and smiled at Claire. For a moment, Shaw considered bringing up that Claire had just come on to her, but she didn't. She'd save it for a later date, when she could flaunt how attractive she was and make Root jealous.

"I'm going to hire Claire at Thornhill," Root told Shaw. "For one of the open positions. She just graduated from the same program I graduated from. We met yesterday."

"That's nice," Shaw said, shrugging. "I'm sure we'll see more of you in New York then."

Root took Shaw's hand, and Claire just glanced between them quickly. She smiled, waving at them.

"I'll see you around."

"I have your number!" Root answered, smiling back. "Have a good night!"

Giving them both one last appraising look, she turned on her heel and headed into the party. Shaw watched her go before turning to Root. Squeezing her hand, Shaw gestured to the party.

"Shall we?"

"We shall."

Shaw dropped Root's hand, offering her arm instead. Root took it, wrapping her hand around the inside of Shaw's elbow. They started into the conference room, taking in the party.

It had been decorated, green and white balloons hanging on the walls and from the ceiling. Streamers hung between them, and various shiny stars were interspersed among the other decorations. Round tables were set up around the room, large ones around the walls and smaller cocktail tables around the center.

It almost looked like the sockhop that Root's neighborhood had thrown, but there were a lot more people here. Men in various shades of brown, grey, and navy filled the room. They talked amongst themselves, holding glasses of wine in plastic cups.

Shaw looked around for the bar, spotting it in the far left corner. Enough bottles of wine were placed on top that she knew it was free. There was also food, in the opposite corner, but she was uninterested in cheap crackers and cheaper cheese. Root pulled her to the left toward the round table that Claire had commandeered. Shaw followed along after her, hoping they wouldn't have Claire tagging along the whole time.

Root put her purse onto a seat and dragged Shaw away to the dance floor, leaving Claire behind.

"I'm not wasting any time," she laughed, practically bouncing as they moved through the people between them and the wooden floor that had been set up. "I know you're only going to tolerate this for a little while."

"You don't know that," Shaw challenged, putting one hand on Root's waist and taking one of hers in the other. "I could have suddenly grown fond of dances."

"You haven't."

Root moved in time to the music, swinging Shaw's arm around and forcing her to jump forward to avoid falling over. Shaw scoffed, righting herself and glaring at Root. It felt wrong to draw so much attention. Looking around, she saw a few men glance their way.

"Root, stop," Shaw hissed. "This is not the place to be ostentatious."

Root frowned, and Shaw didn't like the sudden shadow on her face. Stepping back slightly, Root looked around, noticing the men as they turned back to their own conversations. Her eyes flicked around the room and landed back on Shaw's face.

"Sorry," she said quietly. "I got excited. I forgot that you weren't… That this wasn't ok."

They stood there awkwardly for a moment. Shaw wasn't sure if she should apologize, too. She'd never apologized for being herself before, but it was complicated to try and exist in these kinds of places, with these kinds of people. Root's shoulders slumped slightly and Shaw rolled her eyes.

"I didn't say I wanted to stop dancing," Shaw announced. She stepped close to Root again, taking her waist confidently and sweeping her hand up. "I only came to this lame party to drink and dance. You wanted to dance first, so let's get it over with and then we can drink."

A grin bloomed across Root's face, and she pressed herself into Shaw. The song changed to something more upbeat and Shaw reached up to spin Root in a circle. Root laughed, and the sound of it made Shaw relax.

"Tomorrow," Root said, as they swayed back and forth, "I'm wearing pants. It's the only thing I can think of that makes me look like less of a square. I don't want to have to chug a whole can of beer again to prove myself."

"I don't think they'll care," Shaw replied. She pushed Root away, their arms stretched between them, and pulled her back, catching her easily. "Pants are a good idea, though. You look good in pants."

Root winked at her. "I look even better without them."

"Oh," Shaw laughed, sliding her hand down Root's back, "I know. You'll blow them away tomorrow night."

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"Let me try one," Root said, blinking slowly. "I want one."

Her body felt slow and heavy as she reached a hand across the small table. They'd been drinking for hours. The dancehall Sameen had found made fantastic cocktails and Root had promised to buy as many as they wanted. She was only regretting that promise a little bit.

The 'dancehall' was more of a basement, with low ceilings and a well-worn carpet floor. The air was hazy with cigarette smoke. There were no windows, and, to get into the underground club, you had to tell the man who worked in the 24 hour coffeeshop that you were here to see Logan Pierce. The anonymity was nice, but Root would happily trade it for a few windows or central air.

She pouted as Sameen moved the cigarette out of her reach. The booth they were sitting in was small, tucked into the corner of the room, next to the bar. That was another reason they'd drank so much. The bartender, a grumpy looking woman named Floyd, had actually been more than willing to just pass them drinks over the back of the booth. It might have had something to do with Root's 100% tips.

The dancehall had a whole wall of booths, and a seperate table area, but the dance floor took up most of the space. A live band stood on a small stage across the room from them, and there was hardly an inch of space between the dancing couples. For now, Root was happy to sit in her small booth with Sameen and beg her for a cigarette.

"You'll just choke," Sameen warned her, smirking. "You've come a long way, but I don't think you're quite wild enough for cigarettes."

"I smoked all the time as a kid," Root shot back. "I've just grown out of practice."

Sameen rolled her eyes, still holding the cigarette away from Root's outstretched hand. "And this is where you want to start practicing again?"

Dropping her hand onto the table, Root pouted, fluttering her eyelashes. "Why are you so mean?"

Sameen's eyes narrowed menacingly, but Root could see the tips of her ears turn pink. She wasn't immune to Root's charm. Starting to hand the cigarette over, Sameen hesitated. She seemed to change her mind, scooting closer instead.

She moved around the table, sliding across the cracked plastic cushions, and stopped as she reached Root. This close, Root could see the fog in her eyes that gave away her own drunkenness. Sameen's cheeks were almost blushing, a soft dusting of freckles blending into flushed skin. Root couldn't stop herself from leaning in and kissing her.

Sameen tasted like tobacco and whiskey, earthy and dangerous. A thrill ran through Root as strong hands tugged her forward by her belt loops. They pressed together, not caring about who was watching or what they thought. She sighed happily against Sameen's lips.

Balancing against the table with a hand, Root climbed onto Sameen's laps, spreading her jean-clad legs and settling onto firm thighs. Immediately, Sameen's hands were under the back of her shirt, fingertips digging into Root's skin. Root wrapped her arms around Sameen's shoulders.

It made her heart soar that they could be so close in public. Root had never felt so comfortable and relaxed. It felt right to be together. She bit Sameen's lip until she got a moan and released it, tracing her tongue over the sore spot. After a couple days, it seemed like a permanent red spot was forming on Sameen's lower lip.

Carefully, Root unwrapped one arm from around Sameen, dragging her hand down the front of her chest. She scratched her nails over the pocket in Sameen's button down, and continued on to her own thigh. Cracking an eye to make sure Sameen's eyes were still closed, Root reached behind herself.

"Don't even think about it," Sameen mumbled against Root's lips.

Laughing, Root leaned back, opening her eyes. "Let me have a cigarette!"

Sameen rolled her eyes. The blush on her cheeks had deepened and Root tapped her on the nose. Sliding out of her lap, Root shifted to leave her legs draped over Sameen's. She wasn't willing to give up physical contact yet. There was no reason to put any distance between them.

Sameen picked up the cigarette from where she'd dropped it onto the seat cushion. That's why Root hadn't been able to find it on the table. She squinted suspiciously, pointing to the forbidden object.

"Look," Root tried to reason, "if I can kiss you in public, can't I choke on smoke in public?"

Raising an eyebrow, Sameen chuckled dryly. "You're so weird. Fine. If you're that desperate to look like a fool, I'll let you."

She held it out, turning it so Root could take it in her mouth. Closing her lips around it, Root kept her eyes on Sameen. Stretching across the table, Sameen's fingers picked at the pack of Camels she'd left over there. Managing to move it toward them, she picked them up and settled back into her seat. Turning to Root, she pulled out a silver lighter, small and almost square. It was a dull silver, years of use making it almost rusty.

Flicking her hand, Sameen opened the cap, exposing the thumb roller and spout. She moved it close to Root's cigarette, leaning in and meeting Root's eyes. The intensity of her gaze made Root's heart pound. She'd seen that look several times now and every time it made heat pool in her stomach and sent shivers through her.

Sameen pushed the wheel down, the sound of flint and igniting gas filling the space between them. Flame shot from the spout, sparking to life just in front of the cigarette. Root could smell it burning, the paper and tobacco turning to smoke as she took a deep breath.

Her mouth tasted like Sameen, like all of their kisses. At the other end of her cigarette, the fire reflected in Sameen's black eyes. She looked almost like the devil, but much more beautiful. Suddenly, Sameen shut the lighter and Root gasped, inhaling smoke and feeling it burning her throat.

Root started coughing, leaning backwards and yanking the cigarette from her mouth. She gasped for air, but only managed to suck in more smoke. Dimly, she could hear Sameen laughing and a pint of beer appeared at the end of their table. Managing to look up, she could see Floyd standing there, arms crossed and eyebrows raised in disdain.

"First, you make out right in front of me," Floyd sighed, "and then you almost die. If you two could keep it together, that'd be great."

"Sorry," Root wheezed, trying to smile at her. "I'm new."

Floyd chuckled. "Obviously."

Sameen took the cigarette from Root's fingers and stuck it into her own mouth. "I'll keep her in line," she told Floyd, winking.

"I doubt it," Floyd mumbled.

She walked back to the bar and Sameen laughed, using two fingers to pull the cigarette from her mouth. Finally, Root was able to take a full breath of air, and she reached for the beer glass. The beer was cold in her mouth, bitter and light. She gulped it down, thankful for the liquid against her burnt throat.

"Take it easy," Sameen laughed. She took a breath of her cigarette, cheeks tightening. Pulling it out, she chuckled, the smoke like ripples from her mouth. "I don't want to have to drag you back to the hotel in a strange city."

Root dipped her head back, finishing the glass. It hit the table harder than she expected it to, landing with a thump. She winced and avoided looking over her shoulder at Floyd. Instead, she focused on Sameen in front of her. She ran her eyes over dark lips and lidded eyes.

It didn't seem possible that Root could ever tire of looking at Sameen. There was something alluring and mysterious about her, even after Root had seen every inch of her. The way Sameen managed to be soft and rough at the same time, all hard muscles and smooth curves, warmed Root's insides in a way no one had before.

She was smart, too, and Root was never bored. They could talk for hours and never run out of conversation, or they could sit in silence and Root felt no pressure to talk or exist. It felt like Sameen had been made for her, sent right when Root needed her. She hoped that Sameen felt the same way about her.

"What?" Sameen asked, putting the cigarette back in her mouth and leaning back against the cracked cushions. "Something on my face?"

Root smiled, looking at the red lipstick on the cigarette and the way it contrasted with the white of Sameen's teeth. Just after they'd met, when Root was still in denial and Sameen was barely talking to her, Root had imagined just this. Sameen wearing a button up, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, smoking a cigarette with lipstick stains. She just hadn't expected it to happen like this. It was so much better than she'd ever hoped.

"No," Root answered. "Nothing on your face. I'm just thinking."

"Ew," Sameen muttered. "We're drunk in a dancehall. No thinking allowed."

Laughing, Root pushed her hair from her face. The room around them was still bristling with movement. Between the alcohol and the company, she'd almost forgotten where they were. Her body was humming now, still slow and heavy from the alcohol, but she was so happy to be here with Sameen that she felt like she was full of life.

Swinging her head around and making her vision swim, Root grinned at Sameen. "Let's dance!"

"No way!" Sameen replied, taking the last breath of her cigarette and sticking it into the black, plastic ashtray on the table. "Our dancing has only gone badly."

"That's because we haven't danced in a room full of homosexuals, Sameen." Root winked, emphasizing the way her cheeks scrunched up because she knew how it affected Sameen. Just like she wanted, the flush on Sameen's cheeks deepened. Root leaned forward, brushing their lips together. "I want to dance so close that we can't tell where you start and I begin. I want you to put your hands in my back pockets and touch me in front of everyone."

Sameen swallowed. Blinking, she looked away and shrugged. "Fine. Whatever."

"Yes!" Root pulled her legs off Sameen's lap. She turned, quickly scooting around the table and out of the booth. When she was steady on her feet, she looked at Sameen, who had only barely begun to move. "Come on!"

Sighing, Sameen finally crawled out of the booth. Root grabbed her hand and dragged her onto the dancefloor. It was crowded, and Root had to elbow her way to the center of the group. She didn't care about seeing the band, but she wanted to make sure that they were a part of the party.

She grabbed the sides of Sameen's shirt, where her waist dipped in and her shirt was loose. It was damp under her hands, Sameen sweating under the low ceiling's lights. Root tugged her close, forcing Sameen to stumble forward, her hands coming up to grab Root's shoulders. The crowd pressed against them and Root grinned down into Sameen's face.

They moved together, bodies sliding against each other. There was no way anyone was dancing formally in such a small place, and rubbing themselves together was the only option. No one seemed to mind. Sameen's hands found their way under Root's shirt, hot against the bare skin of Root's waist.

Her thumbs brushed over the bottom of Root's bra, making Root shiver. She leaned down to kiss Sameen. It was thrilling to gasp into Sameen's mouth, grind against her hips, push her hands down the back of her pants, all in public. This is what Root wanted. To be carefree and open and totally herself.

Sameen dragged her nails down Root's stomach until they reached the top of her pants. Tearing her mouth away from Root's, she sucked her way down Root's neck, pressing kisses to her collarbone. Somewhere in her foggy mind, Root wondered what the limit on public affection was. Did places like this even have a limit?

Sameen's teeth sunk into Root's shoulder and she gasped. She pushed Sameen away, a smirk crossing her face. Sameen stared up at her, eyes black and wide. Leaning close, Root lowered her lips to talk into Sameen's ear.

"Come on," Root breathed, as they stumbled drunkenly together. "I need to touch you right now and the bathroom has a lock."

Sameen's head whipped around to stare at her. "What? Here?"

"Yeah," Root laughed, scrunching her nose. "Don't you know I'm a wild girl now?"

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"Ok," Root chuckled, lacing her fingers through Sameen's, "but you didn't have to buy three minature statues."

Sameen rolled her eyes, her smile betraying her amusement. "That woman practically forced them on me. I just wanted one."

Root sighed happily and settled back into the bed. They were tangled together, skin sticky from sweat and warm from sex. She felt languid, sleepy and slow. The weekend had taught her that sex could be vigorous and energetic and leave her feeling satisfied. Now, they were resting, facing each other, in the center of their big hotel bed.

It was Sunday night, their last night before they went back to New York and neither of them could sleep. She knew that if she looked at the alarm clock on the dresser, it would tell her that their flight was in eight hours, that she should get some sleep, that their happiness was almost over. So, she ignored it, kept her back to it, and focused on Sameen.

This weekend had been the best of her life. Between attending lectures and spending time with Sameen, Root was over the moon. She'd made some great contacts at the conference, especially Claire. She'd played hooky that afternoon, though. It felt like a waste not to behave at least a little bit like a tourist.

Sameen had taken her to an art museum. They'd walked around the whole building, taking in every exhibit. Root had been surprised that Sameen appreciated art, but it had been a wonderful time. Better than any date she'd been on with John.

Root sighed again, letting go of Sameen's hand to pull the sheet over her body. It was impossible not to compare Sameen with John. They were the only two people Root had ever been with and they were both important to her. The difference between them was clear, though.

For the first time, Root felt seen. Sameen understood her, really saw her for who she was and not who she was pretending to be. She felt alive with Sameen, able to relax. With John, Root spent so much time trying to seem right and feel right that she'd probably never said a really honest word to him.

Root's heart thumped painfully in her chest. This weekend was amazing. Just laying in bed, naked, with Sameen was wonderful. What was she supposed to do when they went home and she had to pretend that none of this had happened?

"Hey," Sameen said softly. She smiled tightly when Root looked at her. "It's going to be ok."

"Is it?" Root whispered. She felt tense, her previous calm gone. "I know I said I just wanted what you were willing to give, but-"

"Root," Sameen interrupted, lifting herself up onto an elbow. "We're not leaving this in Chicago. I know I'm hard to read, but I like doing this and…" She hesitated, lips tightening. After a second, she clicked her tongue and looked away, squinting into the distance. "I like what we have going on, too."

Root's heartbeat echoed in her ears, and she felt a flush spread across her chest at Sameen's admission. "You do?" she asked. "You don't have to say that if you don't. I know we're just having fun."

Sameen's mouth tightened again, and she kept looking away. She seemed almost nervous, like she was holding something in. Her uncertainty actually made Root feel a little bit better. If Sameen was thinking this through so intently, she must feel strongly about Root and about this new relationship.

"I am having fun," Sameen said softly, "but it's not just that. If this was all about fun, I'd have no problem stopping it here. I wouldn't have come all this way just for a one-time lay."

"That's good to know."

Sameen looked down at her, a curl falling over her forehead. "And what about you?"

"What about me?" Root asked, taking Sameen's hand again. She shifted her legs, feeling the soft cotton of the sheets against her bare skin. "I came to Chicago for a conference."

Laughing with frustration, Sameen dropped back down to the bed. She rolled onto her back, pulling her hand away from Root and covering her face. "I hate this so much."

Taking pity on her, Root poked her stomach and smiled. "I like you, too, Sameen. I thought that was pretty obvious."

"It is," Sameen muttered, "I guess." She threw her hands onto the bed with a thump. "We need to talk about the elephant in the room. I'd rather just move away than go back to New York and deal with it. Can we just go? Get on my bike and drive away?"

"Your bike is in New York," Root answered sadly. She burrowed deeper into the sheet, lifting it to cover her shoulders. "We'd still have to face the music."

Sameen dropped her head to the side, looking at Root with guarded eyes. "Would you, though? Run away with me?"

What she wanted to say was yes. Root wanted to say 'Of course. Let's go right now. Fly to Florida and I'll buy you a new bike.' She couldn't bring herself to open her mouth. So much of her life had been spent working to get right where she was, to get a good job in a field she loved. What would her mother think of her leaving it all behind to ride on the back of a motorcycle?

"You have a life," Sameen said, answering her own question. "You don't like me that much. I don't think I've ever been the needy one before."

"It's not that." Root draped her arm over Sameen's stomach, snuggling into her side. "I do like you that much. I've just spent my whole life working so hard to get this job and it scares me to just leave it like that. What if no one else takes a chance on me like Mr. Finch did? There were five women at this conference, Sameen."

"Wow," Sameen breathed. She didn't move. "It must be hard to have people you can disappoint."

The words cut Root and she remembered the first time they went to the movies. Sameen had been so defensive about her warehouse job, about being poor and working class. It must feel terrible for Root to complain about all the chances she'd gotten. Root closed her eyes and sat up. The sheet pooled in her lap.

"Maybe this is all a mistake," she sighed. "You don't want to be tied down and I'm nothing but tied down. If you want to leave New York, I won't stop you. I just… I need some time to think about it. I know this is your life, but I'm new to all this."

She drew her legs up to her chest, hugging them tightly. Her new happiness was ending and it was her fault. Dropping her face to her knees, she took a deep breath. Sameen was out of her league, brave and real and so, so patient. Root was none of those things. She was just scared.

A warm hand touched her back, making her twitch. It was heavy, fingers spreading to cover as much skin as possible. Even in their short time being intimate, Root had grown familiar with Sameen's rough hands and gentle touch. She would think of it constantly now. At least she had something to think about for the rest of her relationship with John.

"I'm sorry."

Root barked a laugh as her eyes started to fill with tears. She kept her face hidden. "For what?"

"For forgetting," Sameen answered, her voice low. She traced slow patterns down Root's spine. "You're so calm and confident. I forget that you're not like me."

Root took a deep breath, the lazy path of Sameen's fingers helping to calm her down even as her words hurt. "And what are you like?"

Sameen sighed. "I'm… Messy, rough, uncouth, trouble. You're steady and clean and successful. You've got plans and goals. I'm just… drifting at sea. You don't need me to drag you down."

"You aren't dragging me down." Root turned her head, pressing her cheek to her knees and looking at Sameen. Her face was carefully blank, and Root felt embarrassed for crying. "You've done nothing but lift me up. I was stuck, pretending to be happy and constantly compromising myself. I feel like you set me free. I know that's corny, but it's true."

"I can't promise you a life like Reese can." Looking away from Root, Sameen stared up at the ceiling. She looked unreadable, but the way her fingers nervously tapped on Root's back gave her away. "It's not going to be anything more than what it has been. Bars, secrets, hiding. Even if we did run away, there isn't a secret paradise where we can get married and live openly. We'll always need some cover story, or hope that people think I'm a man."

Root smiled at the idea of Sameen living as her husband. She didn't want marriage, a white picket fence, and children. Four years of domesticity had taught her that much. Even if she was doing it with Sameen, Root didn't want her nights to be spent watching Milton Berle, or going to boring dinner parties.

"I don't want you to just replace John," Root said, wiping her eyes. "I'm not just looking for a transplant spouse. I want to live, experience new and interesting things. I'm not a housewife, and I would never ask you to be one, either."

"What if you change your mind?" Sameen looked at her again. "What if you throw everything away and realize in a year that you don't really like me, or women, or our life? This could all be some whimsy."

Taking a deep breath, Root smiled. The weight from her chest was fading away as she looked down into Sameen's dark, uncertain eyes. This was the first time that she felt like they were equals, both meeting in the middle. Sameen's whole life had been impermanence and uncertainty, but she was confident in who she was and in her ability to survive. Root had known what she wanted her whole life, worked toward a single goal, but now she was facing an uncertain future, and she didn't know if she'd make it.

"I know that it might seem like I've radically changed since we met," Root started, "but the opposite is true. I changed a long time ago, and since you moved to New York, I've been finding my way back to myself. Who I was two months ago, that was me throwing everything away. This is me getting it back. This thing we have going on, that you like so much - It's the only thing that I want."

Sameen blinked at her. She lifted a hand, pushing Root's hair behind her ear and sitting up. Her lips brushed Root's softly, like she was afraid Root would disappear at any second. Dropping her legs, Root turned into Sameen, wrapping her arms around her and holding her close.

It felt real. They were real. This was real. Sameen deepened the kiss, sliding her lips over Root's like they had been doing it forever. She pushed Root back, rolling on top of her and pressing her into the bed.

Their bodies fit together perfectly, like they were made for each other. Maybe they were, Root thought. She dug her fingertips into Sameen's back, forcing her even closer. She wanted to stay like this forever, Sameen's warm mouth on her own, their bodies so close that Root wasn't sure who was who.

Lifting her mouth away, Sameen dropped her forehead to Root's. She was so close that she was hard to see, Root's eyes trying to focus on everything at once. Sliding her hands down Sameen's sides, she held her waist, keeping her in place.

"We'll keep doing this," Sameen breathed, "when we get back. We don't have to tell anyone right away. We'll figure it out."

Root nodded. "Ok. We'll figure it out."


	18. The Other Woman

"Thank you again for taking this chance on me," Claire said, leaning forward in her seat. "You won't be disappointed."

Mr. Finch smiled at her across his desk. "I'm sure you'll be a more than satisfactory addition to the team. Ms. Groves wouldn't have hired you otherwise."

"No, I wouldn't have," Root chuckled. She lounged back in her seat, hands clasped lightly in her lap. "You'll be won over just as quickly as I was."

It had been a week since Chicago, and Root hadn't been able to stop smiling since. Every night that week, Sameen had taken her out. They'd gone to the Black Cherry, to another car race, even to a Broadway show. She was sure that John appreciated the time to himself, to work. She'd barely seen him.

It was Friday now, and she knew that they would have to spend time together over the weekend. Sameen suggested that they spend the night at Root's apartment. She'd go to the Black Cherry tonight and tell her that that was a good idea. Root didn't want to go back to reality yet.

Smiling at Mr. Finch one more time, Root started to stand. "Well, we'll leave you to your work. Come on, Claire. I'll give you a tour."

She gestured for Claire to stand, too, and they started for the door. Root pulled the door open and let Claire walk through first, but Mr. Finch's voice stopped them.

"Ms. Groves," he called. "A moment?"

Root nodded and turned to Claire. "You can wait in my office."

Nodding, she walked away and Root stepped back into the office, closing the door behind her. "What can I do for you?" she asked, moving around a chair and sitting.

"You look well." He rested his arms on the desk, looking thoughtful. "The conference obviously did you some good. I'm sorry I wasn't able to come into the office earlier this week. I know it's odd to start a new employee on a Friday."

"It's alright," Root shrugged. "It gave me some time to find a project for Claire. I hadn't expected to hire someone on such short notice."

Mr. Finch looked her over, taking in the way she sat, relaxed. "I have to say, you seem different."

"Do I?" Root asked, knowing how different she felt on the inside.

New York felt strange to her now, so did her work and John's house. She felt like she was in a period of holding. It was like she'd been told about Christmas for the first time, but it was only December 1st. Something great was just around the corner, but she couldn't reach it yet.

She wasn't even sure what she was waiting for, which only made the waiting worse. Root was happier than she'd been in her life, but almost nothing around her had changed. The world had stopped around her, but she was still spinning. Brushing her hair from her face, she smiled at Mr. Finch.

"Chicago was very exciting," Root said. She shrugged casually. "I enjoyed attending lectures and it was nice to spend time with Sameen."

Mr. Finch raised an eyebrow, looking down at his desk. He seemed nervous. "Yes, I spoke with my good friend, Nathan Ingram. He mentioned that she had stopped by."

Root's blood went cold, her whole body tensing. If Mr. Finch had spoken with Mr. Ingram, then he knew that Sameen had gone there to buy a suit. Root hadn't imagined that as a possibility when she'd suggested it. She'd just known that that was a favorite spot of Mr. Finch's. Did Mr. Ingram tell him that they'd gone to dinner together? That Sameen was homosexual? It wouldn't be hard to put the pieces together.

"You speak so highly of his store," Root tried, "and you know Sameen is...untraditional."

He laughed dryly. "Yes. I do know." He gave her a kind look. "I'm not here to cast judgment or chastise you, Ms. Groves. I've been known to spend time with...untraditional people myself."

Root couldn't imagine that. Mr. Finch was so clean and uptight. Then again, isn't that what Sameen thought about Root at first? She wondered if she knew anyone else who was like them. The world was so strange and so much wider than she used to think and she felt like she needed to run.

"Claire is...traditional," she breathed. "I didn't hire her...for that."

"I didn't think you did. I was just…" He squinted at her. "Well, I don't know. John's a good man."

"He is," Root agreed, trying to relax again. "Anyone would be lucky to have him."

Mr. Finch flushed, coughing into his fist. "Yes. Well. That's all I had to say. You know I value your work, and nothing will change that. You can go. I'm sure Ms. Mahoney is waiting anxiously."

Standing slowly, Root watched Mr. Finch carefully. She wasn't sure what had happened. Really, she wasn't sure what the whole conversation had been about. Did he just want her to know that he knew about Sameen? Was he telling her that he knew about the affair?

'Affair' didn't seem like the right word. She wasn't cheating on her husband. She hadn't fallen out of love with John and found herself a lover. She'd never really loved John and Sameen was so much more than an escape. Of course, she couldn't say any of that to Mr. Finch. Sighing, she just headed for the door.

Nothing made sense anymore and she just had to get used to it. Opening the door to the office, she wondered if she should be worried that Mr. Finch knew about them. She walked out of the office and into the computer room. What would happen if they were found out by other people? She smiled to herself. They would have to run away after all.

Root hurried to her office, her skirts flowing around her. Maybe she should buy herself some pants, and start wearing them to work. They made dress pants for women now. She'd stayed away from them before, but it might be time to try something new.

Opening the door to her office, Root paused in the doorway. Zoe was in her office, too, sitting in the chair beside Claire. She smiled up at Root, standing.

"Hi!" Zoe said cheerfully. "We've hardly seen each other since you got back. Actually, we've hardly seen each other at all recently. I I thought that I'd stop by and say hello. See how you were doing."

"Hello," Root answered. "I see that you've met Claire, then. She's my new Systems Programmer."

Claire looked between them. "Should I step out?"

"No," Root sighed. She put a smile on her face and went to sit at her desk. "I'm sorry. I just had the oddest conversation with Mr. Finch."

"Oh?" Zoe asked, sitting back down. She crossed her ankles delicately. "I think most of my conversations with him are odd. Did he say something that seemed odd?"

Claire was still looking curiously between them and Root tucked her chair into her desk. She wasn't sure how much she should say to Claire or to Zoe. As far as Zoe knew, Root was still taking her advice, suppressing her feelings about Sameen and focusing her attention on John. Claire was practically a stranger, although Sameen had told her that she'd learned the truth at the mixer.

"I… had a lot of fun in Chicago," Root started, "and Mr. Finch was just telling me that I looked well. I hadn't expected it. He's usually all business."

"He cares about you." Zoe winked. "And he's not wrong. You're practically glowing."

"Is it because of that woman?" Claire spoke up. "The one you danced with?"

Zoe's smile flagged and Root slumped slightly. Because she handled most of Mr. Finch's paperwork, Zoe would probably know that Root took someone on the trip. If it was a woman, it had to be Sameen. Root wished she was back in Chicago, away from consequences and judgement.

"I took Sameen," Root admitted to Zoe. "John was busy and it wouldn't do to be a woman without an escort in a strange city."

"I could have gone with you," Zoe said quietly. "It didn't have to be her."

Taking a deep breath, Root sat back in her chair. "I wanted it to be her. I learned a lot last weekend and I haven't forgotten our talk, but I feel a lot better than I did then."

"Have you told him?"

"Not yet. I will, though. Soon." Root gave her a cool smile. "If you'll excuse us, I need to talk to Claire about her work here."

Raising an eyebrow, Zoe stood, her face carefully blank. "Of course."

Root watched her walk out of the office and close the door behind her. She trusted Zoe not to say anything, but now she felt like she might have lost a friend. It didn't really matter to her. The more time she spent back in New York, the more she wanted to leave with Sameen. Everything here reminded her of captivity.

Turning to Claire, Root pushed a loose hair from her face. "So, you remember our conversation on couplers?"

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Root stepped out of the elevator, glad the day was over. Sameen was waiting for her at the bar, and Root was itching to see her. The whole week had been a rollercoaster. She was so high and excited with Sameen, but without her, at work or John's, the world seemed dull. Her project was interesting, but Root didn't feel as focussed as she did before. She didn't have to pour all her focus into the work.

She walked through the lobby, heading for the front doors. The usual gaggle of secretaries stood on the other side. She tugged her gloves up, slowing down. Her good mood was returning the closer she got to kissing Sameen, but the other women were a sour spot on her way.

Rolling her eyes at herself, Root pulled a glove off. It was hot outside, the summer getting into full swing. There was no point wearing gloves outside the office. Root was considering forgoing them altogether. None of the men wore gloves, and neither did Claire. Root could stand to update herself.

She pulled off her second glove and tucked them into her purse as she pushed open the front door with her shoulder. The hot, humid air wrapped around her like a damp towel, sticking to her skin. She was glad she took her lace gloves off. If she could, she'd wear even fewer layers.

As the door closed behind her, she watched Zoe step out of the group. She seemed comfortable and Root wondered if she gossiped with the other secretaries. Zoe didn't seem the type, but who knew? Root looked away, into her purse, and pulled out a pack of Camels. She tapped it on her palm as Zoe walked to her, smiling. Root was opening the pack when the group noticed her.

"Well, well, well," Martine said, sneering. She gestured to the cigarette Root was pulling out with her own. "I never thought you'd dirty yourself with something like that. Isn't it a little pedestrian for you?"

Root took her lighter out, and tossed the pack back into her purse. "Hey, Martine?" Root asked, putting up the middle finger of her free hand. "Go fuck yourself."

The secretaries gasped and Root rolled her eyes. She turned away and lit her cigarette. There felt like no reason to be nervous anymore. She knew for a fact that she was never going to fit into this crowd. Besides the fact that they thought she was prissy and arrogant, she was different from them on a basic level. She was pretty sure that she was better.

She sucked in, smoke filling her mouth, and looked back over her shoulder. Martine met her eyes, still looking surprised. Root winked. "Have a good night."

Walking away, Root dropped her lighter into her purse. Hopefully, the secretaries would leave her alone now. She couldn't bring herself to care. The weekend in Chicago had woken Root up. She could finally feel her old self coming back, but it still felt weird, like she was wearing someone else's shoes. Root just wanted to spend her time slow dancing with Sameen and building her own electronics. No girdles, or male subordinates, or petty secretaries.

She was halfway down the block when Zoe appeared at her side. Root took the cigarette from her mouth and slowed down. Zoe smiled at her, but she looked impressed.

"Wow," Zoe said, brushing her hair over her shoulder. "That was interesting. I didn't know you smoked."

"I used to," Root answered. She took another breath. "I'm feeling nostalgic, I guess."

"Oh? I used to wear Victory Curls. I wouldn't take that up again."

They stopped at the crosswalk. Root looked across the intersection at the Black Cherry. It could use a fresh coat of paint. She wondered if Harper wanted it that way. Beside her, Zoe sighed loudly.

"Fine. I'll ask." She turned to look up at Root. "Why did you take Sameen to Chicago?"

"Because John wasn't available," Root answered, bringing the cigarette to her lips. "Because I wanted to."

The light changed, and they started across the street. Zoe shook her head.

"I'm not sure what happened in Chicago, but I'd like to know." She gestured ahead of them. "If you're free, we should get dinner."

"I'm not." Root stopped as they crossed the street and moved to the other crosswalk. "I'm meeting Sameen at the Black Cherry."

Zoe frowned, but walked with her. "I thought I told you-"

"You did." Root took a last pull of her cigarette and dropped it to the ground, putting it out with the toe of her shoe. "I've decided not to follow your advice. I needed it then, but… I've made a different choice. The right one."

The walk signal flashed at them, and they started crossing the street. The windows of the Black Cherry were painted black, nothing visible through them. Root was tired of debating about who she should love and how she should present herself. She was happy. She was so happy, and no amount of admonishment from Zoe was going to keep her from what she wanted.

"Root, that life is dangerous." They got to the other side of the street, and Zoe took Root's arm, stopping her. "Think about your job, about John. You could end up making a choice that you regret. What did John say when you broke up with him?"

Root swallowed, tossing her hair out of her face. "I haven't told him yet. I'm still figuring out the logistics."

"You're cheating on him?" Zoe looked shocked, her mouth turning down in a frown. "Sameen lives in his house. How can you hide this from him?"

"He's not really around," Root answered. "I don't think he's noticed anything different. He's perfectly happy pawning me off on Sameen so he can spend more time at the office with Mr. Finch. I'm going to tell him soon."

Zoe sighed, shaking her head. "I don't approve of cheating, but… Don't break up with him until you're certain that Sameen is what you want. If this is all some phase, some nostalgia thing, then you'll have your real life to fall back on."

Root ground her teeth together. She wanted to say that this was her real life now. This had always been her real life. It was the clean dresses, white lace gloves, fancy job, rich boyfriend, that had been fake. She was supposed to be messy and free and with a woman. That was real. What she had with Sameen was real.

Instead, the seed of doubt that lived in her stomach wouldn't let her answer. Her weekend in Chicago had been amazing and she felt so different than she had before. But what if it was temporary? The seed kept asking her that. What if she really had been swept up in the mystery and magic of it all? What if Sameen decided she didn't want a relationship? What if Root chickened out and ran back to the safety of John?

That wasn't an option. Even if things didn't work out with Sameen, Root knew the truth about herself. She knew that she liked women and that she needed to find her old self again or make a new self that was true to her now. She might not be able to go back, but she could always move forward. She wanted to move forward with Sameen.

"They're waiting for me," she said out loud. "Have a good night."

She yanked open the door to the Black Cherry and hurried inside.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Shaw looked up as the door opened, smiling as Root walked in. She'd come straight from work with Joss and Fusco, picking up a pizza on the way. It was Friday night, so the bar would be packed soon, but for now, she had a clear view of Root from the far bench where she sat. Her smile flagged when Zoe followed Root into the bar.

She noticed Root's annoyed look as she almost sprinted toward them. Shaw worried for a moment that Zoe would follow and they'd have to make small talk, but Zoe stayed at the bar, getting Harper's attention and waiting for her. When Root got to their table, Shaw scooted over, giving her some more room.

Root dropped into the booth and sighed. "I thought coming in here would get me away from Zoe."

"She's not here for you," Joss said, glancing over her shoulder. "She's picking up dues."

"Dues?" Root echoed. She rested her elbows on the table, tucking her hands under her chin. "Is she the landlord?"

Fusco snorted. "No. She just collects protection money. Against the cops who like to raid us."

Shaw settled back against the wall, keeping her eyes on Root. The past week had been fun. They'd spent almost all of their free time together, having sex and going out. If it weren't for the fact that Shaw lived with Root's boyfriend, and her best friend, it would all have been perfect.

Now, she was taking in the tension in Root's shoulders and the way she kept shifting her chin on her hands nervously. Maybe all the sneaking around was getting to her. Shaw still wasn't sure when they were going to tell Reese, or even if they would. What good would it do unless they were really serious?

She noticed that Root's hands were bare, and raised her eyebrows. Root had been wearing gloves when they'd left her apartment that morning. It felt inappropriate, like Root was naked in public. Shaw reached out and pushed her hand into one of Root's, linking their fingers and pulling it close. Her hand was soft and cool.

Root smiled at her and let her put their linked hands into her lap. Shifting, Shaw put a leg up on the booth, getting comfortable against the wall, Root's arm stretched between them. Leaning forward, Root pressed a kiss to her lips and then turned back to watch Zoe.

"She was warning me about the 'danger' of the homosexual lifestyle," Root said quietly. "She meant stuff like that. The raids. I wouldn't mind that."

Joss snorted. "I can't imagine you spending the night in jail. Aren't you worried your dress might get dirty?"

"Hey," Shaw said, pointing a finger across the booth, "she's tougher than she looks. Besides, I'd just claim her immediately and she'd be safe."

Root licked her lips, tearing her eyes away from Zoe to look at Shaw. A soft blush covered her cheeks. "You'd claim me?"

"Alright," Fusco interrupted. "Don't start that. Harper will kill you if you lock the bathroom for an hour again. The line got so long, and then women were using the men's room. That affects me directly. Keep it in your pants until you get home."

Shaw winked at him and picked up her glass of beer. It was taken out of her hands and she turned to see Root gulping it down. She jumped forward to grab the glass back.

"Get your own!" she whined, put the glass down on her other side. She yanked her hand out of Root's. "And buy me another one!"

Root just sighed dramatically and stood from the booth. Shaw settled back into place. From across the bar, Zoe caught her eye. Shaw didn't read people easily, but she could almost smell the annoyance coming off of Zoe. It didn't bother her. Shaw had tried her best to stay away from Root, too, and keep her in her own world.

It hadn't worked, because Root hadn't been a part of that world. It was so weird to be able to touch Root now. Whenever she wanted, Shaw could reach out, push soft brown hair behind her ear, kiss her. Almost whenever. Shaw gave Zoe a big smile, feeling satisfied when she left the bar, thick envelope in hand.

"So," Shaw started turning back to her friends, "Any weekend plans?"

"We've got that softball game tomorrow," Joss told her, wrapping her hands around her glass. "We could use an extra umpire, if you'd like to join."

Shaw groaned. "A softball game? You're in a league? You never told me."

Joss laughed, tossing her hair. "It's not a cult. No one takes it seriously, but it's fun. Taylor's coming to watch me play. Seriously, come and watch at least."

"Watch what?" Root asked, sliding back into her seat. She lifted her hands to keep the two glasses she was holding free of the table. Putting one in front of Shaw, she put the other in front of herself. "A movie?"

"A softball game," Fusco answered. "Tomorrow."

Root brightened, straightening in her seat. "I love softball!" She grinned at Shaw. "Are you playing?"

Shaw could feel her resolve to avoid anything as domestic as recreational sports disappearing. Glancing across the table, she saw Fusco and Joss grinning at her, and she glared at them. Of course she was going to play softball if Root wanted her to.

"Yes," she bit. "I'm the umpire."

Root hummed, eyes glinting. "I bet you'll get in a lot of scrapes. I used to love going to the softball games in the next town over. I was too young to play, but not too young to watch."

"Well, people are always flaking," Joss said. "Wear something you can play in."

It seemed impossible, but Root looked even more excited. She was practically vibrating with enthusiasm and Shaw had to smile. Root's energy was infectious, and it pulled Shaw out of her normal apathy. As ambassador to the homosexual experience, it was practically Shaw's duty to make sure Root had the best life possible. If that meant dumb team sports and the occasional romantic comedy, well, that was part of the job.

"Can we take your motorcycle?" Root asked her. "I read in the paper that the weather is going to be perfect."

"You should teach her to drive," Fusco suggested. "I bet she can actually reach the petals."

"Fuck you," Shaw snorted, rolling her eyes.

It wasn't a bad idea, though, and Shaw liked the image that formed in her mind of Root in her leather jacket, hands wrapped around the handlebars. Root's leg would stretch down to hold herself up, long and lean. Would she tie her hair up into a ponytail, letting it stream behind her? What would it feel like to press up to Root's back and wrap her arms around a perfect waist?

"Fine," Shaw croaked, meeting Root's eyes. Root blushed. "I guess I can teach you."

"You know I'm a fast learner," Root breathed, eyes dark. "Won't take long to get me going."

Fusco shook his head, picking up his can of Coke. "You guys suck."

"Oh, there was plenty of sucking."

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Root groaned, a low, throaty growl, and clutched at her powder blue bedsheets. She spread her legs wider, giving Sameen more access. Her body was still sore from their early morning sex, her thighs stretching as Sameen pressed them open and into the bed. Sameen's tongue ran over a particularly sensitive spot and Root's hands flew down to grab her head.

The sex between them had only gotten better over the week. They were learning each other's bodies and figuring out what really worked. Root was in awe of Sameen. It was like she could read Root's mind, always doing exactly what she needed. She could only imagine how much better it could get.

They'd left the bar hours ago, after the sun set. Friday nights were always busy, and Root couldn't keep herself off of Sameen after a few drinks. When she'd literally climbed into Sameen's lap, they'd walked the few blocks to Root's apartment. She had no idea what time it was now. Everything had been a wonderful blur.

Sameen's eyes flicked up at her and Root watched as her tongue moved in slow circles. Root always liked when Sameen looked at her, but during sex, Sameen's eyes were always wide, observing her. Her tongue slipped down to dip into Root, and Root gasped hands fisting in Sameen's shaggy hair.

Releasing Sameen's hair, Root traced her hands up her body, fingers dragging over sweaty skin. Sameen pushed two fingers inside of Root. Groaning, Root covered her breasts with her hands, squeezing as Sameen curled her fingers. Her body was already shaking, her previous orgasms leaving her raw and ready. She wasn't sure how much more she could take, but Sameen didn't seem like she was ready to stop any time soon.

The phone by her bed rang and Root jumped, gasping in shock, her heart pounding in her chest. Looking down, she saw Sameen glare at the phone, tongue and fingers pausing. After the next ring, Sameen resumed her work and Root's stomach clenched as she thrust her fingers in to the knuckles.

The phone kept ringing and Root dropped her head to the side to look at it. The only person who ever called her was John. She wasn't sure if it would be too suspicious if she didn't answer. They hadn't spent any time together in almost three days. He was probably wondering where she was.

She moaned, Sameen's mouth making it hard to think. Her eyelashes fluttered, and she stretched down to grasp at Sameen's head with one hand, the other still holding her breast. The phone rang again and Root groaned with annoyance.

"Hold on," she sighed, lightly pushing Sameen's head. "I have to talk to him. I'll be quick." She picked the phone up, taking a deep breath. "Hello?"

"Root, it's John."

She rolled her eyes. He always introduced himself, despite the fact that he had a very recognizable voice. "Hi, John."

Sameen knocked her hand away, smirking up at Root before slowly lowering her mouth and giving her a low, long lick. Root choked, jerking her face away from the phone. She glared down at Sameen, shaking her head.

"I just wanted to check in on you," John said. "I haven't seen you in a few days."

"Yeah," she squeaked, as Sameen curled her fingers inside of her. "Sorry. I've been busy. Work."

Sameen thrust her fingers inside her quickly, mouth wrapped around Root's clit. It was very distracting, and Root tried to wiggle upwards, away from Sameen, but a strong hand kept her in place. She tried to focus on John's voice and not on the heat pooling in her stomach.

"You've been getting ready for Claire, right? How was her first day?"

Root swallowed, eyes slamming shut. "It was good. She's smart."

"Are you ok?"

Turning her head away from the phone, Root tried to calm her breathing, but Sameen's fingers were slamming into her, making her breasts bounce and her heart race. Her mouth dropped open, throat clenching as she held back a moan. Turning back to the phone, she tried to think of an excuse for being out of breath.

"We're… exercising," she tried. "We're playing softball tomorrow and Sameen is helping me get in shape."

John laughed. "That's pretty short notice. I don't think one night's worth of exercise will help you too much tomorrow."

Root gasped, wincing at how loud it was. "It's been all week. She won't even let me stop long enough to talk to you."

Sameen winked at her, and Root rolled her eyes. The heat in her stomach was growing and she knew she couldn't hold out for too much longer. She realized John had started talking again and tried to listen.

"...sometime this week? There's a fair in town. We could go one night next week."

"Sure!" Root almost shouted. "I mean, that- That sounds great. I'll call you. Was there anything else."

"You know, something funny happened at work last week."

John started telling his story, but Root couldn't focus on it. Sameen pushed a third finger inside of her, lifting her face to stare up Root's flushed chest. Her thumb made tight circles on Root's clit as she thrust her fingers.

Her heartbeat was loud in her ears and Root's body felt liquid. She slammed the receiver into the bed, hoping John wouldn't hear her as she came. Her orgasm exploded through her, back arching as she jerked. A strangled cry ripped from her throat and her feet slipped against soft sheets.

Sameen's mouth replaced her hand, tongue pushing inside her. Root's hips bucked against her mouth, knuckles white around the phone. She gasped, trying to suck in air as her body spasmed. Finally, she shoved Sameen's face away with her free hand, slamming her knees together, still twitching.

Sighing, she relaxed back into the bed, eyes fluttering open to see Sameen looking smug and satisfied. Her cheeks and chin were wet and she wiped them with the back of her hand. She opened her mouth to speak, but caught herself, eyes flicking to the phone Root was still pushing into the bed.

Eyes widening, Root picked it up quickly, praying John hadn't noticed.

"Anyway," he said, "all that to say that my big case is done."

"Oh, good," Root gasped. "That's great. Can I call you back?"

He chuckled. "Shaw's working you hard, huh?"

Sameen straightened up, adjusting the dildo she was wearing. She'd put it on as soon as they'd gotten home. Root had to admit it looked good on her. Sameen smirked, licking her lips. She was sweating, too. Her abs glistened in the faint city lights that streamed through the window. Root reached for them, but the phone in her hand reminded her of John.

"Uh-huh," she agreed, barely knowing the question. "I'll talk to you later."

She hung the phone up and wiggled in the bed, getting comfortable. Her body was still liquid, muscles weak and quivering. Sameen grinned down at her, scooting forward on her knees, positioning herself between Root's legs. She picked a condom up off the bed from where they dropped a handful.

Root watched carefully as Sameen ripped the foil with her teeth, lined the condom up with the end of the dildo, and smoothly rolled it down. Everything that Sameen did in bed excited Root. When she touched her with confidence, Root melted under her strong, capable hands. When she was flushed, moaning and gasping beneath Root, it was mesmerizing.

Sameen's fingers traced over Root, slipping easily through wetness and heat. "You might be at your limit," Sameen teased, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe we should stop."

"No," Root gasped, hips jumping under Sameen's touch. "One more. I want one more."

"A lady always gets what she wants."

Sameen pushed the dildo into Root, carefully sliding her hips forward until they rested flush to Root's. Root scratched at Sameen's abs, her fingers moving through sweat drops until she could hold Sameen's hips, keeping her inside. Her legs wrapped around Sameen's back, ankles crossing.

Dropping down onto her elbows, Sameen looked at Root, gaze almost tender. She drew a line across Root's brow, down over her cheekbone, to her bottom lip. Dipping her face, she pressed soft lips to Root's, kissing her slowly and lazily. Their chests pressed together, whole bodies lined up perfectly.

Root could feel the future in Sameen's kiss, all the time they had together. They had the rest of their lives to kiss each other, learn each other's ways and wants and needs. It seemed impossible that they had met, become friends, become lovers so quickly. But it had happened, almost easily.

Sameen's hips drifted backwards, pulling out slowly. It was a thrilling torture. Root felt raw from all the activity that night and over the week, but tasting herself on Sameen's lips, feeling her move inside her was too good to miss. Chest rumbling as she moaned, Root's fingers dug into Sameen's sides.

Sameen pushed back into her, pulling her face away. Root stared up at her, trying to keep her eyes open as Sameen started moving quickly and rhythmically. Sameen's mouth dropped open, also sensitive from everything they'd been doing. Root groaned, thinking about Sameen coming at the same time as her.

"Does it feel good?" Root asked, panting. She took Sameen's breasts in her hands, running her thumbs over hard nipples. "I want you to feel good."

Sameen just kissed her again, grunting into Root's mouth as she thrust. Root could feel herself getting close already. She reached down between them, sliding her hand under the front strap of Sameen's harness, trying to touch her as she moved. She felt wet heat and Sameen whimpered above her.

Root rubbed Sameen quickly, her other hand tangled in Sameen's thick, damp hair. She felt consumed by Sameen, the smell of her sweat and sex almost overwhelming. Everywhere their skin touched burned, bringing Root closer to her climax. She moaned in time to Sameen's movements, fingers losing their rhythm as her body started to jump and twitch.

Sameen's grunts got louder, her hips slamming into Root again and again. Their faces were so close and Root gazed up at Sameen's furrowed brow and the deep flush covering her cheeks. Sameen's eyes opened, meeting Root's, intense and desperate.

Making tight circles against Sameen, Root felt her orgasm start, vision unfocussing. Her muscles clenched, and she cried hoarsely into Sameen's open mouth, almost weeping as her tired body spasmed. Dimly, she felt Sameen come above her, hips bucking, a sharp moan meeting Root's cry. They melted together, falling onto the bed.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Shaw swung her legs off the edge of the fire escape, watching them dangle. They'd climbed out of Root's bedroom window and climbed up to the tenth floor to get a better view. Lifting her head, Shaw put her cigarette in her mouth, crossing her arms on the steel bar in front of her. It was cool against her skin, warm from sex and the hot summer night.

When she'd moved here, Shaw had expected to love New York City. She'd heard about the City That Never Sleeps, but it wasn't really living up to the hype. Looking over the street below, she couldn't see anyone awake. Noise still filled the air and she could see lights all around, but it didn't seem accessible.

What was she supposed to do when there was a whole, lively city around her and she still felt stuck? Pinching the cigarette between her index and middle finger, Shaw pulled it from her mouth, exhaling smoke. The only thing that really excited her was spending time with Root, something she'd never expected or even wanted. Shaw was sure that she was always going to be free of sentimental attachments.

She turned to look at Root, standing beside her. Long, bare legs stretched up forever, disappearing beneath a men's pajama shirt. Root had rolled the sleeves up, elbows resting on the top of the fire escape's railing as she gazed over the city. Her hair was loose, disheveled and long. It hung past her shoulders in soft waves.

Shaw looked away again, sighing as she ground her cigarette into the metal floor. Pushing a loose curl out of her face, Shaw pulled her legs up, crossing them. Even after she'd met Root, Shaw wasn't sure she was interested in a real relationship. She supposed they couldn't call their relationship 'real' until Root broke up with Reese, but it felt real enough.

It would be so easy to stop it, or just leave New York, and Root, and never come back, but, annoyingly, Shaw didn't want to. She liked spending time with Root, and she loved having sex with her. It had been a long time since she'd slept with someone this many times. It'd been a long time since she'd even wanted to.

Somehow, Root had gotten under her skin. She'd just hung around so much, and made such an effort to get to know Shaw, that Shaw had found herself actually opening up. Maybe this could have happened with anyone, but Shaw didn't think so. She'd never met anyone like Root before.

Turning back to Root's legs, Shaw smiled. The nervous lady that Shaw had met when she moved here was gone, and this adventurous woman stood in her place. Two months ago, Shaw would never have thought this version of Root existed. She'd been wrong about her. That was part of what made Root fascinating.

Shaw only had this one version of herself. It was the only thing she could be, but Root was so complex. Shaw felt like she could know her forever and still find new aspects. It made her hopeful for the future. Getting tired of someone like that was almost impossible. It was too bad that she was already tired of New York City.

"I'm thinking about your offer," Root said quietly, "to leave New York."

Shaw climbed to her feet, muscles stretching. "Afraid you'll get caught?"

"No."

Resting her hip against the railing, Shaw crossed her arms, running her eyes over Root's profile. She was hard to read, which was frustrating. Root was usually an open book, around Shaw at least. She frowned.

Root took a breath. "I'm just… tired. Of pretending."

"We could always just tell him."

"I don't mean that." Root tilted her head, still not looking at Shaw. "It just feels stupid to keep pretending like I haven't changed. This whole week at work, I just kept thinking that nobody there knows who I am. They might know where I went to college, where I'm from, that I'm dating John, but… That's not who I am. I think Zoe, with all her advice, might know me best."

Shaw shrugged, not really knowing what to say. "Do you want to quit?"

"I want to leave." Root finally looked at her, a small smile on her lips. Her eyes shined in the orange light from the city. "I want to get to know you better. Get to know me better."

"You're so obsessed with that," Shaw teased. "Knowing yourself."

Root's mouth quirked up into a half-smile. "Well, I'm stuck with myself, right? You could disappear right now and it'd just be me and whoever I am right now."

Shaw wasn't sure why her stomach clenched at the thought of disappearing. Wasn't she just thinking about how easy it would be to leave? Maybe it wouldn't be so easy. She jumped up onto the railing, back to the city and tucked her feet into the bar below her to steady herself. Reaching out, she busied herself with fixing the collar of Root's pajama shirt.

"Have you ever been to California?"

Shaking her head, Root's smile grew. The strange look was fading from her eyes and amusement was replacing it. Sometimes, Shaw wished she could read emotions better, because Root had so many of them. She finished fixing Root's collar and dropped her hands. She wrapped her fingers around the steel railing and looked over her shoulder at the city.

"Maybe I could take you. You could see my hometown." She smirked. "I could introduce you to Root's mom. She might like you more in person."

"I doubt that," Root said, rolling her eyes. She pushed herself off the railing, standing up. "I'd like to see where you grew up, though."

Shaw sniffed and shrugged. "Yeah. I'd love to see you in a bathing suit again."

Root laughed, the sound wrapping around Shaw and drifting out into the night. She rested a cool hand on Shaw's warm thigh. "You see me naked every day. You saw me naked less than an hour ago."

"It's not the same," Shaw told her, glancing at her from the corner of her eye. "Don't you want to see me in a bathing suit?"

"Obviously." Root leaned towards her. "I always want to see you."

They kissed softly. Shaw lifted a hand from the railing to tangle it in Root's hair. Her body shifted on the thin railing, other hand still holding tight. Root grasped at Shaw's night shirt, just an oversized t-shirt, worn from years of restless nights. Their tongues brushed together and Shaw pulled away.

Root blinked sleepily. "I could take you to Bishop sometime. There's not much to see, but I could show you my favorite climbing tree."

"Well," Shaw breathed, raising an eyebrow, "how can I say no to a climbing tree?"

They just looked at each other for a moment. It was easier to talk about leaving than it was to leave. Shaw wondered if they would still like each other in another place. Chicago was a lot like New York, but what would they be like on the road? What would Root be like after nights of sleeping on the ground? Shaw chuckled at the thought.

"What?" Root asked her, eyebrows drawing down.

Shaw smiled at her. "I'm trying to imagine you camping. Have you ever slept on the ground?"

Root thought for a moment. "I think I slept out under the stars some as a kid, but not recently. John's not exactly the camping type either."

"No, he's not." Shaw sighed, releasing Root's shirt and running her hand through her hair. "So, are we leaving?"

"I don't know." Root sighed, too. "Not yet. I can't leave my work half-finished. John deserves an explanation, too."

Shaw frowned, but she knew Root was right. "Do what you have to do at work and then we can tell him."

Root nodded, her hair bouncing. She moved away from the railing, drifting back towards the stairs. Her feet lazily trailed along the steel floor. Large, brown eyes stared at Shaw, boring into her.

"Come back to bed?" she asked, voice rumbling in her throat. "We can sleep in tomorrow."

Taking a deep breath, Shaw nodded and jumped off the railing. She landed almost silently, the ridged steel of the floor digging into the balls of her bare feet. The pain woke her up a little bit and she gave Root her best smolder.

"You want more?"

Root grinned, the orange light of the city cast shadows across her face. "Absolutely."


	19. A Bullet Is Waiting

Root hurried down the stairs, bouncing happily as she headed for the front door. They'd spent the morning shopping in the city, and when they'd gotten back to John's house, she'd made Sameen wait outside so she could change. Root wanted to surprise her with the full look.

Root was excited to ride Sameen's motorcycle. She'd let Sameen believe she didn't know how to ride, but she'd studied mechanics just enough to figure it out. She'd never actually driven one, but she knew the theory. It wasn't going to be too hard. She'd be a pro in no time, and then they'd ride off to the softball game together.

Opening the door at the bottom of the stairs, Root stepped out into the entranceway. She looked around the living room and sighed. They still needed to talk to John, but Root could begin to imagine the best way to do it. He wasn't a bad guy. He just wasn't the person for Root.

She reached up and pulled her ponytail tighter and moved to the small table by the door. Her wallet was already set out beside her keys and she quickly picked them up and put them into her pockets. The last time she'd put her wallet and keys into her pockets like this, she'd been wearing Sameen's clothing.

That was the night that she'd admitted to liking women, and to liking Sameen. It felt like a million years ago, but it was barely more than two weeks. How had so much changed so fast? Root nervously ran her hands down the front of her shirt. Just because things were happening quickly, didn't mean that they were out of control. Root liked that her life was changing for the better.

Taking a breath, Root opened the front door, turning to close and lock it behind her. She could almost feel Sameen's eyes boring into her from the street. Grinning, Root pulled her key from the lock and pushed it back into her pocket, spinning on her heels. There were a few families out on their lawns, but Root didn't care. She put her hands on her hips and struck a pose.

Sameen's eyes were glued to her body, and Root couldn't stop a shiver from running down her spine. She'd bought a pair of dark blue linen pants at Sears, and they made her legs look miles long. A soft cream shirt was tucked into the waistband, accentuating her curves. It was also sleeveless, and Root was glad. The day had started to warm up, and she wanted to feel the hot, summer sun on her arms.

Blinking, Sameen shook her head slightly, adjusting herself on her bike. "Come on," she called. "We don't have all day."

Root rolled her eyes and started down the walkway. It felt a little bit weird to walk in her new boots because they didn't have heels. She would have to wear them around to get used to being flat. Sameen lifted her leg over the bike, climbing off. Despite the warm day, she wore her old leather jacket. It swallowed her a little bit, but Root liked the rough-and-tumble look.

Sameen threw her head to the side, tossing loose curls out of her face. Since Root had asked her to grow it out, she hadn't cut it at all. It was getting a little bit long now, brushing her eyebrows, and Root was probably going to ask her to trim it soon. Smiling at the thought that she had some power over Sameen, even something so simple as haircuts, Root reached out to wrap her arms around Sameen's shoulders.

Quickly pushing her arms away, Sameen looked around. "Careful," she snapped. "People are looking."

Root pouted, but she didn't take it personally. "When are you going to kiss me on the street, Sameen?"

"When you boss isn't going to see you cheating on his best friend."

"That's fair," Root chuckled. She reached out and ran a hand down the front of Sameen's jacket. "Hey, let me wear this."

Sameen raised an eyebrow, relaxing. She gestured to Root's body. "And cover up this look? No way."

Lightly pushing her away, Root laughed. "Give it to me! I want to wear your jacket, like we're in high school or something."

"You want me to pin you?" Sameen snorted. She shoved her hands into the pockets of the jacket and leaned back against her bike. Root had to take a deep breath and a step back because she looked so cool. "I think I pin you enough."

Winking, Root just wrapped her hands around Sameen's lapels and stepped close. "The last time I wore it, I wasn't even your girl yet."

"If I give you the jacket, will you stop trying to feel me up in public?"

"Of course!" Root agreed, widening her eyes for sincerity. "I'll keep my hands to myself."

Rolling her eyes, Sameen started pulling the jacket off. She stepped to the side, moving down the street a few steps. Root watched her bare arms appear out of the sleeves, muscles rippling. There was a quiet confidence in the way that Sameen moved and it enthralled Root.

She turned slightly, and Root watched as her shirt stretched across a wide, strong back. It took all of Root's strength not to reach out and pull Sameen to her. She pushed her hands into her pockets instead and just took a deep breath.

Her jacket off, Sameen turned back to Root, holding it out. Root took it, the worn leather soft under her hands. She held it up to her face, breathing in Sameen's smell. It was warm and familiar, like steel and oil. Smiling, Root slipped into it.

It was a little short on her wrists, but it was warm and comforting. She pinched the sides, holding it open and walking in a slow circle for Sameen. Her whole outfit made her feel really good. The nice dresses and white gloves never felt good. She always felt so stiff, but now she felt like she was free.

"Alright," Sameen sighed, annoyed, "the look is better with the jacket."

Root flipped her ponytail with her hand. "Every woman should have a pair of pants and a leather jacket."

Rolling her eyes, Sameen gestured to the motorcycle. "Get on. I'll explain how it works."

Giggling with excitement, Root hurried to the bike, throwing one leg over and settling onto the seat. It lowered beneath her weight and Root wiggled her hips. She lifted a foot onto a footrest and gripped the handlebars. They were rough under her hands, the ridged rubber brushing over her palms. She squeezed them, feeling solid and grounded despite the wheels under her.

She'd never had her own vehicle before, but she'd always dreamed of a motorcycle. Root had always wanted the ability to just leave wherever she was and go somewhere new, be someone new. That hadn't been possible with her mother being sick, and then with school and her job. The more she thought about it, the more leaving with Sameen seemed like the right thing to do.

Swallowing, Root took a deep breath. She didn't want to be thinking about her mom now. She wanted to ride this motorcycle and then play ball with Sameen and their friends. She focused on how happy she was to be straddling Sameen's motorcycle, like she usually straddled Sameen. Grinning, she turned to Sameen, straightening her back and shimming her shoulders.

"Do I look cool?" Root asked. "Like a greaser? A bad boy?"

Sameen smiled, crossing her arms. "Definitely not. You make a good greaser's girlfriend, though."

Root shrugged. "I'll take it."

"Ok," Sameen said, stepping close to Root. She dropped her arms and squatted on the left side of the bike. Pointing at a small pedal above the footrest, she looked up at Root. "This is your clutch. Push it forward when you start and then ease back as you get going." She stood and reached out to the key. "One click is ignition and two is ignition and lights." Next, her hand moved to a small lever. "Gear shift. Handlebar above that is the spark advance." Stretching across the front of the bike, she rested her hand on the other handlebar. "Throttle."

"I know the parts," Root said, pushing Sameen out of the way. "Just tell me the general process."

Raising an eyebrow, Sameen held her hands up. "Jeez, just trying to help. The process: Neutral gear, spark advance forward, little bit of throttle, clutch engaged, ignition one notch, kickstarter. It takes me about two tries to get it going. I don't know if you're strong enough to start it, actually…"

Root glared at her. "I'm not a baby, you know. I've got some muscle."

Chuckling, Sameen crossed her arms again. "Ok, Popeye. Go for it."

Quickly wiping her hands on her jacket, Root adjusted herself on the seat and put her hands on the dash, petting it gently. She could appreciate a well made machine. It was even more important because Sameen had built it. Every machine had a piece of its creator in it and that meant that she could learn to love this one.

Root turned the spark advance forward with her left hand and moved the throttle forward gently with her right. She pushed the clutch down and then dropped her foot to the floor. There were so many steps to turning the engine on. It hadn't seemed so complicated when Sameen was getting them going.

Looking down at the kickstarter, Root swallowed. She'd bragged about having some strength, but that was mostly in her arms. She could carry a hundred punchcards; this wasn't the same. She licked her lips and shifted her weight onto the footrest, standing up. With all her strength, she dropped herself onto the kickstarter pedal, pushing it down.

Nothing happened. Root lifted herself again, kicking down as hard as she could. The motorcycle rumbled to life beneath her, shattering the quiet Saturday afternoon. A few families looked up from their lawns. Ignoring them, Root sat down again, feeling the shiver of the engine between her legs. She looked at Sameen.

"Not too bad, huh?"

"I'm impressed," Sameen responded. "But can you make it go?"

Root winked at her and hit the gear shift into place. Easing the clutch back, she turned the spark advance and twisted the throttle. The bike jumped forward and Root sped away down the street. The wind whipped at her hair and jacket, making them stream behind her, and even though she knew that she should press the brakes, she turned left at the stop sign and headed out of the neighborhood.

Root could see why Sameen liked the motorcycle. She felt like she was a part of the machine, leaning close and leading it forward. The houses disappeared from around her and she started down the slip of road toward the Texaco. She decided to stop there for a moment and buy a pack of cigarettes.

Leaving the main road, Root pulled into the Texaco and braked, slowing to a stop in front of a pump. She didn't want to be gone too long and leave Sameen standing in the middle of the street. Turning off the ignition and kicking the stand down, Root swung her leg over the bike and started into the store.

"Hello," the attendant behind the counter greeted her. He gave her a small wave. "Is there anything I can do for you, ma'am?"

"Yeah," Root answered, reaching into her pants pocket and pulling out her wallet. "I just need a pack of Camels."

He nodded and turned around, looking over his shelf of cigarettes. "That'll be 24 cents."

Root pulled a dollar out of her wallet and dropped it onto the counter. "Used to be cheaper."

The man chuckled and took the Camels off the wall, turning back to her. "Yes, ma'am. Gas, too." He shook his head, picking up the dollar and moving to his register. "I just hope it doesn't keep going up."

"Me, too."

He made change quickly and dropped the coins into her hand. She took the Camels from him and left the store. A warm breeze blew around her as she walked to the bike. Root squinted as she looked around the gas station. It was a nice day, bright and warm. She was excited to go play ball with their friends later.

Tucking the Camels into the jacket, Root frowned when it met some resistance. She stuck her hand into the pocket and pulled out a stiff piece of paper. It was folded in half, crinkled and torn. Root slide the Camels in the pocket and unfolded the picture.

It was a picture of a young girl standing between her parents. Squinting at the picture, Root realized that it was Sameen. Root laughed out loud, quickly climbing onto the motorcycle and leaning on the handlebar so she could lean forward and examine the picture carefully.

Sameen looked miserable, her long hair tied into a braid that hung to her waist. She was wearing a dress and lace gloves. Root smiled fondly. She wondered if Sameen knew even then that she liked women. Was she already dreaming of cutting all her hair off and wearing pants?

The man beside Sameen was wearing a uniform. Root could guess that it was her father. He was wearing a Marine's Uniform, with several medals attached. Root didn't know enough about military honors to know what they were, but she was impressed nonetheless. He was very handsome, with thick, curly blonde hair and a strong jaw, just like Sameen's.

Sameen's mother was beautiful. Her hair hung around her shoulders, dark like Sameen's. She had a kind face, her eyes crinkled with a smile. She was holding Sameen's hand, and wearing a very similar dress. Root wondered how Sameen's parents had met, and how they had died.

Root brushed her thumb over Sameen's face gently before folding the picture and tucking it into back into her pocket. She got the motorcycle ready and lifted herself up onto the footrest. With a grunt, she kickstarted the engine. It roared to life and she pushed the kickstand up, rolling forward. She turned carefully around the gas station, using her feet to keep the bike steady. Once she was facing the street again, she turned the throttle forward and lifted her feet, racing out of the station towards home.

She was almost sad to head back toward John's house, but she was happy to get back to Sameen. Root smiled. She could tell her girl to hop on and take them to the baseball game. Houses started appearing along the road and Root hurried onward.

As she turned onto their street, Root started to slow down. She could feel the eyes of the families playing in their lawns on her, but she didn't look around. Sameen was standing beside a man in the street, her arms crossed. When she was close enough, Root could see that it was John, wearing his khaki pants and a plain t-shirt. She stopped in front of them.

"Hey," she greeted softly, looking between them. "What's going on?"

"I saw Shaw in the street," John answered. "She told me you were driving the bike and I had to see it for myself."

Root glanced at Sameen, but she just shrugged, jaw tense. "Oh." Root smiled at him. "Impressed?"

"I am," he laughed, spreading his hands. "I never thought I would see it! When did you start wearing pants?"

Looking down at her lap, Root realized that he had never seen her like this before, only Sameen had. For a moment, she was upset that he had seen it. Until now, it had been just between her and Sameen, something that only they understood. She supposed this was part of being public. He didn't know it, but he was witnessing her coming into herself.

"Only recently," she murmured. "Wanted to try something new."

"Well, between those pants, the jacket, and that bike, I feel like I hardly know you."

Root and Sameen both chuckled. Climbing off the bike, Root pulled the pack of Camels out of her pocket and tossed it to Sameen. John reached out to her and Root reluctantly stepped into his arms, giving him a tight hug. Turning her head, she pressed her cheek into the cotton of his t-shirt, meeting Sameen's eyes.

Despite herself, she felt her face grow hot, and her eyes water. It still felt so impossible that soon he'd be out of her life entirely. He had always been kind to her, and supportive, even if he was also absent. She stepped out of his arms, and looked at Sameen.

"I found this," she said, pulling the picture from the other pocket and holding it up. "You're adorable."

Sameen snatched it from her, glaring. "Forget you ever saw that."

"Can I ask…" Root bit her lip, pushing her hands into Sameen's jacket pockets. "What happened to your parents?"

John sucked in a breath. "Oh, she won't-"

"My dad died in a car crash when I was 10 and my mom was killed by a burglar when I was 12." Sameen sniffed, and tucked the picture into her back pocket. "I started high school living with my grandmother and then she died and I moved in with John."

Root blinked at the frank response. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago." Sameen shrugged and crossed her arms. "I'm over it."

John was watching Sameen carefully, mouth drawn in line. Root had seen that look before, when John was working on cases at home. A lump formed in her throat and she regretted asking her question in front of John. She'd thought Sameen would deflect, or refuse to answer.

"If you ever take a trip to California, I can show you their graves," Sameen offered. She looked up at John. "You should have taken her to meet your mother."

"Yeah," he muttered. "Probably."

Root cleared her throat, nodding her head at the bike. "We should go."

Sameen nodded and walked to the bike, patting John on the shoulder as she passed him. Root hesitated for a second before pushing up onto her toes and pressing a kiss to John's cheek. It made her stomach clench, but he already looked suspicious and she didn't want to worry.

Quickly turning around, Root threw her leg over the bike and settled in behind Sameen. She made sure not to scoot too close, or wrap her arms around Sameen's waist. Instead, Root gingerly put her hands on Sameen's hips, the denim rough against her soft hands. Sameen kicked the starter with more than enough force and the bike jumped to life.

She took off without warning Root, and Root yelped as they raced away. Once they'd turned their first corner, she leaned forward and threaded her arms under Sameen's, resting her cheek on Sameen's shoulder.

It didn't take too long to get to the field, and Root quickly jumped off the bike, her boots crunching on the rocky ground. She tucked her hands into the pockets of the jacket again and looked around. The softball field was in the undeveloped land on the outskirts of the suburbs. Root wondered if they were close to the racetrack.

The field was big, with two sets of bleachers on either side and perfect red dirt covering the pitch. Root wondered what had brought them out to the suburbs, but then she turned and spotted some familiar faces. Wearing matching green softball shirts, and sports skirts, were the women from the local homeowner's association. Root winced and spun around to face Sameen.

"It's them," Root whispered. "The women who hosted the dance."

Sameen smirked, tucking her shirt back into her pants. She was still sitting on the bike, casual and unbothered. "Reese has already seen you in pants, so not much they can do. Do you even care what they think?"

Root thought about it. She really didn't. Shrugging, she just gestured to their team, sitting in the closest dugout. "No. I'm going to say hello to Joss and Lionel."

She walked across the parking area towards their friends, watching her feet. The last thing she needed to do was trip over a stray rock and embarrass herself in front of everyone she knew. Walking around the fence that bordered the field, Root looked up, waving to her friends.

"Hi!" Joss called to her, standing. She wore a blue t-shirt, like the rest of their group. "I'm glad you could make it."

Root smiled at her, stopping in front of the dugout. "Me too! I'm not sure how much help I'll be, though. I haven't played in years."

"You'll be great," Joss chuckled. "Can you pitch?"

"I can try!" Root leaned on the railing and peered down into the dugout. "Hello, Lionel."

Lionel glared up at her, tugging his baseball hat down. He didn't look excited for the game. "Hello. Are you ready to lose?"

A laugh came from behind Root and she glanced over her shoulder to see Sameen walking toward them. Sameen winked at her. Root turned forward again, smiling sympathetically at Lionel.

"We'll do fine," Root assured him. "Do you guys usually lose?"

"From what I've heard," Shaw said, leaning on the railing beside her, "yes."

Joss rolled her eyes. "We're not bad."

"Everyone else is just better," a new voice said. Root looked over to see a tall,l black man smiling at her. He held his hand out to her. "The name's Peter."

Root reached out to take his hand, but Sameen reached forward, slapping it away.

"She's taken," Sameen snapped, glaring at him. "Buzz off."

He just smirked. "Oh, this must be your girl."

Sameen's scowl deepened, but Root grinned. "You talk about me?" Root asked, delighted. She turned to Peter. "What does she say?"

"No way," Sameen cut in again. "We are not doing this. Can we just play pall?"

Chuckling, Joss nodded and started down the concrete steps into the dugout. "Let's just get your gear on. We're actually going to have you be the catcher. Schiffmann was available after all."

Sameen followed her down into the dugout and Root looked their team over. They were all wearing blue shirts, but none of them matched. It seemed a pity that they didn't have such a cohesive look as the other team. Root made a mental note to anonymously donate some blue uniforms to them.

Turning, Root leaned her back against the railing and took in the other team across the field. They were in the middle of some complicated cheer, and Root scoffed. They reminded her of every girl in high school she had hated. She'd think they were hiding secrets, too, but the sincerity with which they laughed told her that probably wasn't true.

They all threw their hands up and one of them picked up a bat. Pushing off from the railing, Root clapped her hands, ready to go. Someone pressed a baseball cap to her head and she looked over her shoulder to see Lionel leaning on the railing from the other side. Winking at him, Root adjusted the cap, pulling her ponytail through the back.

"We don't have helmets?" she asked. "What if a baseball comes at me?"

"Duck," Joss answered.

Laughing, Root accepted a glove from Lionel and headed for the field. She pushed up the sleeves of the leather jacket. She put her hand inside the glove, remembering when she was young and loved to watch the women play. One time, when she was scouring the attic of her mother's house for something to sell, she'd found an old leather glove. It had her father's name on it in sharpie. She'd worn it around the house for a few days and then sold it.

She might steal this one from Lionel. If she was going to be part of the team, then she'd need a permanent glove, right? Looking over her shoulder, Root spotted Sameen heading toward her in catcher's gear. She froze, a few feet from the pitcher's mound.

Sameen looked intense, the padding of the catcher's gear covering her chest and hips. She was tugging her glove on, biceps working as she adjusted the fit. Her face was covered by a protective mask, but her dark eyes were fixed on Root as she stalked forward.

Root swallowed, wondering how Sameen could look hotter with more clothing on. She looked like she was ready for a fight, and Root thought that maybe they needed to steal that gear, too. Root could imagine Sameen in a fight, her hair and eyes wild. Licking her lips, Root looked away. This was not the place to think about Shaw wiping sweat and blood from her eyes.

"Here," Sameen said, handing her a softball. "Remember that it's underhand."

"I can pitch," Root defended, bouncing the ball in her hand. She smirked. "Can you catch?"

Squinting at her, Sameen just walked away toward home plate. A woman from the other team had taken the plate, the bat on her shoulder. Root smiled at her, climbing onto the pitcher's mound. Around her, her team took their places on the field.

Joss was on first, her legs wide and ready to run. She gave Root a thumbs up before pumping her fist into her glove. Root wasn't sure if she deserved the confidence Joss was displaying, but she appreciated it. A buzzer sounded and she jumped, swinging around to see a teenage boy, grinning sheepishly.

"Taylor!" Joss called to him. "I told you to wait for my signal."

"You gave me a thumbs up!" He called back, holding his arms out. "That's the signal!"

Joss rolled her eyes, but she turned back to the field. "Well, let's get started then. First one to twenty runs, or highest score at the end of the game."

The batter got into position, holding her bat out in front of her and bending at the knees. "Come on, Root! Throw it! Or do you need your boyfriend to show you how?"

Root raised her eyebrows. She had no idea who this woman was, but apparently she'd made a large enough impression for the woman to remember her. She wasn't sure what she'd done to annoy the woman, but now Root really wanted the other team to lose.

Sameen squatted into place behind the woman, punching the inside of her glove. She winked at Root across the field, and made an upside down V with her fingers. That probably meant something specific, but Root had no idea what the softball signs were. She took a deep breath, steadying herself to throw the ball. Hopefully, she wouldn't wildly miss and send the ball shooting out into nowhere. Winding her arm, she pitched, aiming for Sameen's glove.

The woman swung, but missed, and the ball landed easily in Sameen's hand. Root grinned, happy to have gotten a strike. The woman glared at her, and Root gave her a sweet smile. It felt good to be competitive again, working hard to beat someone. Victory against the housewives would feel sweet.

Sameen stood, adjusting her grip on the softball. Root admired her in her catcher's gear again. Maybe she could convince Sameen to teach her more about softball. Maybe she could convince Sameen to teach her to work out in general. Root would love to watch Sameen's routine, the way her muscles would ripple, the way she would sweat and pant. Root sighed, her body growing warm.

It was almost silly how easy it was to make Root's mind wander to thoughts of Sameen sweating. She wiggled her fingers inside of her glove. Would these feelings fade over time? Root hoped not. She was enjoying them, and all the opportunities she had to make the thoughts a reality. A shout made her look up, pulling her back to the present. She saw the ball coming toward her too late.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Tucking Root in, Shaw ran her eyes over the growing bruise that sprawled over Root's forehead. It wasn't too bad yet, mostly just a red spot, but she knew it would only get worse. Root would definitely be upset that she couldn't make her usual exaggerated faces. She definitely wouldn't get a concussion just from this, but they would still go to the doctor in the morning, just in case.

Shaw took one last look at Root before closing Reese's door and following him into the kitchen. It was almost funny how fast Root had taken a ball to the face and passed out. The game hadn't even started and Shaw had to take her home. Luckily, Joss had brought her truck and they could put Shaw's bike in the back.

She put her hands in her pockets, bare feet sinking into the carpet as they walked across the living room. Shaw couldn't remember the last time she had a conversation with Reese. Had she even talked to him since she moved here? He glanced over his shoulder at her and she gave him a weak smile.

They walked into the kitchen and Shaw made a beeline for the fridge, opening the door and pulling out a beer. She looked across the kitchen at Reese, who was settling into the breakfast nook.

"You want a drink?" she asked him, holding up the can in her hand.

He nodded. "Sure. Thanks."

Leaning back against the seat, Reese crossed his arms, looking blankly across the room. Shaw couldn't tell if he was upset, or what he was thinking at all, and she cursed their shared stoicism. Sighing, she pulled another beer out of the fridge and closed the door.

"Sorry for knocking your girlfriend out," Shaw mumbled, pulling a bottle opener off the freezer door. "It was the first time, I swear."

Reese smirked humorlessly. "Sure."

Frowning, Shaw made her way across the kitchen. When she got to the table, she put a can down and used the pointed end of the bottle opener to push two holes into the top of the other can. "She was really excited to play ball," Shaw tried. She put the can down and picked up the other. "Probably should have gotten her a helmet."

Reese looked up at her, eyes almost sad. "How long have you been interested in her?"

Shaw stilled, keeping her face carefully blank. "I'm not," she said quietly, setting his can in front of him. "What makes you think I am?"

"I'm not blind," he answered, watching her slide into the booth across from him. "You spend a lot of time with her. You've talked to her about your parents."

Face still neutral, Shaw winced internally. She'd made sure that Root didn't do anything physical where people could see, but she'd been the one to give them away. Shaw shrugged. "We're friends."

"You don't have friends." He sighed, dropping his arms onto the table and wrapping his hands around his can of beer. "Other than me."

Shaw wasn't sure if she should drop the act, or wait for Root to make a decision. If she told John now, Root would have to deal with the consequences. Shaw could live with it either way, but she knew Root was conflicted. To buy herself some time, she took a sip of beer.

Should she lie and say nothing was happening? Wouldn't that just make it worse when he did find out? What if she said no now, but Root decided tomorrow to tell him? Shaw put her can down, swallowing hard. Across the booth, Reese was staring at her.

"Is…" He sighed, and looked away. "It would be better if she didn't love me."

Raising an eyebrow, Shaw dropped back against the cushions. "That's dramatic. Are you secretly a Russian spy?"

He barked a laugh. Rubbing his forehead, he shook his head. "I've been really stupid. For a while now. Root's going to get hurt."

That made Shaw frown. She had known that something was going on with Reese, but she hadn't considered that it would hurt Root. Anger welled up inside her, and she had to take another drink to keep herself from reaching across the booth and punching him. She had worked so hard to make sure Root didn't get hurt, and now he was going to hurt her.

"What did you do?" Shaw asked, her grip tight around her can.

He winced. "Will you promise not to tell her?"

"No."

"Well," he muttered, "I guess that's fair."

Shaw put down her can and leaned forward, clenching her hands into fists. She rested them on the table, and met his eyes.

"What do you do?" she repeated through gritted teeth.

"I've been with Harold for about six years now," he answered. "Romantically. Sexually."

Shaw groaned, closing her eyes. "Why?"

"We met when he hired me at his law firm. I was just back from the war, trying to use my law degree, and he took a chance on me." Reese smiled. "He taught me everything I know."

"Gross," Shaw mumbled. She was happy that Reese was happy, but it still made her so angry that he would string Root along for so many years. "Why are you dating Root, then?"

"Harold thought it would be good for me to be in a relationship," he said quietly. "So we didn't attract suspicion. I didn't think Root and I would be together for so long, but she's great and she has her own life, too. It was easy to do our own things and still be together."

"Why not tell her that then?" Shaw asked. "She would have covered for you."

He tossed his hands up. "I didn't know that! She was a young systems programmer, eager and ready to advance her career and it just worked out."

"'It just worked out'," Shaw repeated scornfully. "You used her for years. How do you think she's going to feel when she finds out that you never loved her? She's felt so guilty."

Reese frowned. "Guilty?"

Shaw opened her mouth, but nothing came out. For the second time today, she'd given them away. She took a deep breath and rolled her eyes. "Root and I are sleeping together. She's a homosexual like me. Like us, I guess."

Reese's eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open. He seemed shocked and Shaw smirked. If he was going to hurt Root, then he deserved a little bit of hurt, too. Maybe she should have more loyalty toward him and less toward Root, but she didn't. She never would have thought that he'd be capable of living a lie like that for so long.

A weight was gone from her now. She knew that it should have been Root who told him, but now that he knew Shaw could only feel relieved. There was still a lot to deal with. She might have to move out, and Root might be angry at her. It was done now, though, and they could only move forward.

"What?" John asked her, eyes wide. "I thought- You are?"

"We are," Shaw confirmed, smiling. "Root and I have been having sex for a little over a week now, but honestly, it's been going on for longer than that."

He shook his head. "I'm so surprised. She's… I thought she was in love with me."

"She cares about you." Shaw relaxed her hands. She was still angry at him, but she probably wasn't going to beat the shit out of him. "We've been talking for a while about whether we should tell you or not."

"I'm glad you did," he said. His shoulders slumped, and Shaw realized how exhausted he looked. "It's good to know that she won't be alone. I care about her, too. Just not like that."

Shaw bit back a rude remark. If he really cared about her, he would have told her the truth years ago. She couldn't bring herself to feel guilty about her affair with Root. She hadn't felt guilty before really, only conflicted. Again, she thought about her loyalties. Reese had supported her for most of her life, and she didn't feel bad about lying to him.

It might be a product of her complicated relationship to emotions, but Shaw never thought too much about that. She was the way she was and anyone who cared about her knew it. Root seemed fine with how Shaw behaved and Reese knew her better than anyone.

"I guess it's over now," Reese said. He fiddled with his can. "I'll tell Harold that our cover is blown, and… You'll take Root."

"She's not a couch," Shaw replied, annoyed. "I'm not getting her in the divorce. She gets a say in all this."

He nodded. "Of course. I didn't mean to imply... " He scratched his forehead. "I was never a good boyfriend. I mean, maybe in the beginning, but not in the last couple of years. She deserves better than that."

"Yes. She does," Shaw answered. She thought about how much it took for Root to come out to her, and come after her. "She's tougher than you think she is. She's been playing the good housewife, but she's her own person. A little wild."

Chuckling, Reese finally took a sip of his beer. Shaw watched him drink, his throat working, and remembered when they were in high school and Reese used to tag along with the Mayhem Gang. He was afraid to break any laws, but he wouldn't back down from a fight either. He'd saved her ass on more than one occasion. She wasn't sure if she was entirely willing to give up his friendship.

"I'll get out of your hair," Shaw sighed. "You won't have to see her all the time, but you and I could still get drinks sometimes. I don't think we've talked at all since I got here."

He tossed his head back, finishing the beer, before placing it at the edge of the table. "I'll be honest. I invited you out here because I knew you needed a change of pace, but I was also hoping you'd be a good distraction for Root." He shook his head, his mouth tugging up in a half-smile. "I guess that backfired."

"I see," she teased, "you used me, too. I should be angrier about that part, but it worked out well for me."

"You don't have to move out." He looked at her, face sincere. "I won't be upset if you have her over. I do like her, as a person. Maybe we can actually be friends now that we're not just lying to each other."

Shaw smiled at him, but she didn't respond. Root's apartment was more convenient anyway. It was close to her work, close to the Black Cherry, close to Root. It had surprised her at first, but Shaw liked sleeping in the same bed as someone else. She liked being able to curl up against someone else, and she really liked waking up to someone making her breakfast.

She wondered if it would be a good idea to move in with Root. Wasn't that the same as having moved in with Reese? What if she and Root fell apart? Where would Shaw go if she needed space from Root and her loud emotions? She supposed she could always beg Joss for her couch, or come back to Reese's for a night.

It was frustrating to be so reliant on others, but Shaw couldn't afford her own place, and she couldn't just leave for a life on the road now that she had Root. Besides, she didn't want to. Taking a deep breath, Shaw pushed away the negative thoughts and focused on the positive. She had Root all to herself now, no more lying or hiding. They could leave now, together, once Root had finished her work.

"I'll go stay with her," Shaw finally said. "We'll get drinks sometimes, though. You can invite Harold, even. Oh, what about Grace?" Shaw frowned. "Does Grace know?"

"Grace knows," Reese replied. "She and Harold have been together for a long time, and they love each other, but not like that. Grace enjoys being a housewife and working on her art, but she and Harold… It's not like that."

Shaw tilted her head. "Is that what you hoped for from Root? A housewife that didn't actually need you around?"

"I suppose," he sighed, shrugging. "I was going to propose to Root soon, until you came." He sighed again. "I guess we should tell her. When she wakes up."

Shaw looked over her shoulder at the kitchen entryway. Root was sleeping off her headache, and she probably wouldn't be up and about for a couple days. Shaw didn't want to add anymore pain to what she was already experiencing. Turning back to Reese, Shaw held her hands up.

"Why don't I tell her?" she suggested. "I think it should be good news, not bad."

Reese looked concerned. "Are you sure? You can be…"

"I'll tell her better than you would!" Shaw scoffed. "Look, I'll tell her in a couple of days when she's feeling better. Meanwhile, you can sleep in the guestroom and I'll stay in your room with her."

"I just think-"

"Reese," Shaw snapped, cutting him off, "I know her better than you do, and after four years, that's saying something. Let me tell her. She's not going to disappear once she knows."

He frowned, but nodded slowly. "Yeah. Ok. I suppose you're right." He smiled sadly. "It's going to be weird not having her around. I've gotten used to talking to her."

"She's smart," Shaw agreed. "Interesting, passionate. I'm going to do my best to be good enough."

Reese laughed at her. "She really got under your skin, huh? I can't think of anyone else you had such a crush on."

"Fuck off."

Shrugging, Reese let the insult roll off of him. He seemed lighter, too, with his own burden gone. They both knew that Root was going to be hurt by this, but there wasn't any way around it. Shaw was still angry, furious at Reese for causing Root guilt and hurt. She wasn't sure how Root would feel, knowing that it'd all been a lie. Maybe she'd just be excited to move on to a new part of her life.

"I'm going to check on her," Shaw announced, climbing out of the breakfast nook. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Not waiting for him to say goodbye, Shaw walked out of the kitchen into the living room. She looked around, not feeling any attachment to the house. She'd barely lived here, and most of the time she'd been so preoccupied by Root that she hadn't paid any attention to her surroundings. She didn't bother committing it to memory now.

When she reached Reese's room, she carefully took the door handle in her hand and turned it slowly, pushing the door silently open. Root was asleep on her side, one arm flung off the bed, and her legs curled up under her. Her bruise was turning a dark purple.

Entering quickly, Shaw closed the door behind her just as quietly as she'd opened it. She tip-toed across the carpeted floor to Root and knelt beside her on the floor. The bruise was pretty intense, but Root would be fine. She'd woken up on the ride home, confused, but aware. Shaw had just let her fall asleep again and carried her inside.

She hadn't woken up again since then, but she was fine for now. They'd take her to the doctor tomorrow and see if there was any damage done. Shaw didn't think the doctor would suggest anything other than ice and rest. She might not have gone to med school, but she'd gotten in her fair share of scrapes back in the day.

Gently, Shaw brushed Root's hair out of her face. Root's eyes fluttered open and she smiled when she saw Shaw. Her hand found Shaw's and wrapped around her fingers.

"You tried to kill me," Root mumbled, still half-asleep. "Is it because I don't know baseball fingers?"

"What?" Shaw chuckled quietly. "It was an accident. Go back to sleep."

"Stay with me," Root sighed, tugging on Shaw's hand. "I don't care about John right now."

Shaw smiled, nodding in agreement. "Yeah," she said, standing. "Who cares about him?"

Undressing down to her underwear, Shaw hurried around the bed and climbed in. She covered herself quickly and nestled against Root's back, draping her arm over her waist. Root's body was warm from laying under the covers, and Shaw was content to share the heat.

"Go to sleep," Shaw whispered. "I'll be here when you wake up."

"You better be," Root breathed, eyes closing.

Shaw laid her head on the pillow, breathing in Root's smell. "I will be, Root. I've got you."


	20. Carnival Story

Root stared out the window of John's car, leaning her shoulder against the door. Despite the hot air outside, the glass was cold against her bare skin as she looked out into the night. Buildings shot past as they drove through the city to the fairgrounds. Dropping her eyes to her lap, Root traced her eyes over the patterns in her lace gloves.

The bruise on her head was fading, but it was still unpleasant to look at. Three days after impact and it was a sickly green and yellow, still purple in the center. Luckily, Mr. Finch had understood and let her take a few days off of work. He'd given her the whole week off and she was going stir crazy, even though it was only Tuesday.

John had been home all day Sunday and last night. He was being surprisingly attentive, overly nice and helpful. In March, Root would have been happy to spend more time with him, see him prioritize her over work and Mr. Finch. Now, she wanted him gone, so Sameen could care for her. The only good thing about her injury was that John was sleeping in the guestroom and letting Sameen sleep with Root in his larger bed.

She wasn't quite sure why, but she wasn't going to complain or question it. Uncrossing her ankles, she stretched her legs in front of her. They were on their way to the fair John had invited them to on Friday night. Root had needed to get out of the house, and she liked going to fairs like this. It wasn't hosted by the homeowner's association, or anyone that they knew. It was just a New York City fair, and Root was looking forward to having some anonymity in the crowded, night-time carnival.

She'd be more excited if she didn't have to wear a dress. Even though Sameen was with them, sitting silently behind Root in the backseat, this was still technically a date with John. Root thought about when Sameen had first moved in, and Root had been upset that she had come to the movies with them. This felt like the opposite; Root was frustrated that John was cutting into her time with Sameen.

She smoothed her hands over her skirt. It was belted at her waist and was fluffy down to her knees, with a petticoat and everything. Root had forgone her girdle, but she was wearing her corset-bra and garter belt, silk stockings clipped into place. It all felt restricting and her lace gloves were making her hands itch. She didn't know how she wore all of this for years, with barely a complaint.

The silence in the car was deafening and awkward. Root didn't know what to say to fill it, and she knew that Sameen and John were fine with long silences. It was probably only her that felt suffocated by the heavy quiet. She wondered if she should pretend that she and Sameen weren't spending all of their time together. John had to know that they were. She wasn't sure what it would do.

Licking her lips, Root shifted in her seat and looked at John. His eyes were fixed on the road. Stubble ran along his jaw, going gray now. He was unkempt, which was unusual for him. It was usually a sign that he was stressed, or upset, but his big case was done now. Wasn't that why he was suddenly clinging to her and taking up her time?

She felt bad for thinking about him like a burden. Three months ago, she had thought she was in love with him. Maybe she had been a little bit, but now whenever he was around, or in her mind, she just thought of him as an obstacle. Would she ever be friends with him once she revealed that she was having an affair with Sameen? Would he disown Sameen? Kick her out of his house, reject her?

Root didn't want to make Sameen's life any harder than it was, but she knew there would be consequences to their actions and their decisions. John would be hurt by their lying. Root didn't want to break his heart and then leave him for good. She didn't want her whole life to change.

But she did. Hadn't that been the whole point of letting herself realize that she liked women? That she liked Sameen? That she wanted to leave New York? If she didn't say anything or tell the truth, all this doubt and conflict was for nothing. Root wanted to be with Sameen, as herself, and that would mean hurting John. That was how it had to be.

She ran her eyes over his face. She didn't have to hurt him right now. She would talk to Sameen tonight, once they'd gone to bed, and they could decide on the right time. It would be soon. Root wasn't sure she could survive the restraint of her life or clothing for much longer. She'd have a good time with John tonight and break his heart another day.

"Did you win your case?" Root asked, her voice sounding like a shout in the silence of the car.

John jumped slightly, his eyes glancing to her and away again. "I did. Didn't I tell you? We got a not guilty verdict."

"That's great," Root muttered, trying to remember if John had actually told her. She couldn't remember anything they'd talked about in the past couple of days. "Are you starting a new case soon? Or taking a break?"

"I might take a break," he answered. He slowed to a stop at a red light. Music floated in from the car, and he flicked his turn signal on. "Mr. Finch wants to take me on a trip. As a celebration gift."

Root frowned, and looked away from him, out the window. It wasn't fair that John got to go away as much as he wanted, and Root was tethered to the office. She knew the nature of their jobs was different, but it still made her feel like she was stuck standing still while the world spun around her. Maybe she would take Sameen abroad when they left New York; it wasn't like Root didn't have the money.

"Where are you going?" Sameen asked from the back seat, her voice as tense as Root felt. "When?"

The light changed and John turned right. The fair appeared in front of them, and he drove slowly toward the field where parked cars were packed like sardines. He led them into the field toward an empty spot.

"I'm not sure." He stopped to let a couple walk in front of him. "We're waiting for… to hear some news."

Sameen snorted in the back seat and Root twisted around to look at her. She smiled at the way Sameen sat slumped, her arms crossed in front of her. Of course, Sameen had dressed down, just a white tank top tucked into jeans. Her collarbones drew Root's attention, sharp across her chest.

Shaking her head to toss hair that wasn't there, Sameen looked up at her with dark eyes. She'd gotten her hair trimmed the day before, and it was a perfect length. The curly mop she'd had before was gone, but it wasn't so short that Root couldn't run her fingers through it.

Sameen stuck her tongue out at Root and Root winked at her, exaggerating the way her cheeks scrunched because she knew Sameen liked it. Sameen just rolled her eyes and Root turned back to the front seat. John put the car in park and Root started taking her seatbelt off.

As soon as she'd released it, letting it slide back into its place, the door opened and Sameen smiled down at her. Reaching a hand up, Root let Sameen help her out of the car. She held Root's hand as she closed the car door, only dropping it when John started around the car toward them.

They started for the entrance, weaving between cars. Root was a little unsteady on the soft grass in her heels, sinking a little bit. If her heels got ruined in mud, she was more than willing to throw them away. One fewer to get rid of later.

They reached the edge of the field and the ground turned to gravel suddenly. Root stumbled as the small rocks shifted under her, and strong arms wrapped around her, hauling her upright. She looked up to see John inches from her face, holding her tightly against him. She remembered an early date of theirs, when she'd still been unsure about the relationship.

She'd been nervous that dating would take her focus away from work, and that she'd lose ground if she spent her free time doing anything other than reading or working. She and John had gone ice skating, and she'd slipped. He'd caught her just like this, and smiled at her just like he was now, and Root had felt safe in his arms.

Now, she felt trapped. Every second she spent being close to him was making her skin itch. She wanted to tell him that it wasn't his job to catch her anymore, that he wasn't allowed to hold her close, that she wanted him to leave. That wasn't true, though. Root liked spending time with him. She wished there was a way to just be friends, and erase the memory of his hands on her.

John let her go, holding her arms until she was steady on her feet again. When she was, he stepped away and walked to the entrance. Root turned to Sameen, not sure what she wanted to say, but needing some comfort. Sameen was staring after John, her face carefully blank.

Root couldn't tell what she was thinking. Was she picturing John's hands on Root for all these years? Had she tried to catch Root, too, and just been too slow? Root put her hand on Sameen's shoulder, and those mysterious eyes turned on her. Sameen blinked and the empty look was replaced by her usual flirting eyes.

"Always the damsel, huh?" Sameen teased, offering her arm. "Come on, I'll help."

Root smiled at her and took her arm, shivering at the feeling of skin on skin. She knew that Sameen was going to drop her arm when they got to John, but Root could enjoy it for now. They walked under the archway that stretched across the entrance and spotted John standing in line for the ticket booth.

Root's smile flagged as she saw Mr. Finch and Grace standing with him. She knew that she had just been thinking that she wanted alone time with Sameen, but it still made her stomach clench thinking that John might have told Mr. Finch to come to the fair with them. It felt like old times, like he was more interested in hanging out with his boss than he was with his girlfriend.

It shouldn't bother her. Now John would go spend the evening with Mr. Finch and Root was free to be with Sameen, but she couldn't stop her old doubts from returning. Was there something about her that just wasn't enough? Why didn't John like her enough to spend an evening with just her? Did he even love her?

Root swallowed, her willingness to spend an evening in a loud, bright place leaving her. She didn't want to follow John around like a dog, but it hurt her to think that he was just going to pawn her off onto Sameen, so he could spend time with Mr. Finch. Root wanted to spend her evening with someone who really wanted to be with her.

"Root?" Sameen grunted, prying Root's vice-like grip from her bicep. "You're hurting me."

Gasping, Root let her go, dropping her hand. "I'm so sorry! I didn't realize that I was squeezing so hard."

Sameen gazed at her with a curious look in her eye. She absent-mindedly rubbed her arm. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Root lied, glancing back to John. "I guess we'll have the night to ourselves after all."

Following Root's eyes, Sameen saw John, Mr. Finch, and Grace as they moved up to the ticket window. Her face dropped into a scowl and she clicked her tongue angrily.

"Whatever," she scoffed. "Let him pay for our date and we'll have a great time without him."

That made Root chuckle, and she felt some of the weight in her chest lightening. "Yeah, it'll be fun. I'm just annoyed, that's all."

"About what?" Sameen asked her, pushing her hands into her pockets. "John being an asshole? Because I'm more than annoyed at him right now."

Root raised an eyebrow, not sure when the two of them got into a fight. "I'm just annoyed that he dragged us all the way out here just to leave us. He used to do this all the time. I guess I forgot. The last six months or so, he's just been gone. Hard to leave someone you don't spend time with."

Sameen's face scrunched in a snarl, her eyes flashing with anger. Her shoulders tensed, boots crunching on the gravel as she shifted. Taking a step back, Root watched Sameen suck in a breath through her nose and reach up to cover her face. After a moment, the tension started to drain from Sameen's shoulders and she dropped her hands, face schooled to neutral.

"Sorry," Sameen muttered through clenched teeth. "I don't like that he treats you like this."

Warmth spread through Root. She'd never had someone get so angry on her behalf before. The way Sameen had vibrated with anger, her knuckles white as she clenched her fists, the way her chest flushed. She'd been ready to fight for Root, to make someone bleed for her.

Root licked her lips and looked around quickly for somewhere to hide. There was a small shed beside the arched entrance with just enough space to squeeze into. Grabbing Sameen's hand, Root headed for it, walking as quickly as she could across the unstable gravel. She almost dove into the small space between the arch and the shed.

Before Sameen could stop her, Root shoved her into the hard wood of the shed and kissed her, pressing their bodies together. Sameen immediately wrapped her arms around Root, holding her close. She was still tense with anger and Root groaned at the image of Sameen's knuckles bloody and bruised.

She ran her hands up Sameen's biceps, over her shoulders, and cupped the back of her neck, holding her in place. Her heart was racing as she bit Sameen's bottom lip, sucking it into her mouth and releasing it with a pop. Sameen's kisses were demanding and hard, and Root melted in her arms.

Pulling away, Sameen stared up at her with wide eyes, her cheeks flushed and lips dark. "What was that for?"

"My protector," Root purred, dipping her head to brush their lips together again. "So angry for me. So strong."

Sameen grinned, pressing a quick kiss to Root's lips. "You want me to beat him up?"

"Maybe," Root sighed, wrapping her arms around Sameen's shoulders. "I like knowing that you would."

"I'd fight anyone for you," Sameen answered. She shifted her hands from Root's back to her hips. "I'd kill any man who hurt you."

"My defender." Root glanced to the side, seeing if anyone had spotted them. They were hidden in the shadows. She watched John searching for them and looked back at Sameen. "I guess we have to join the party again."

Sameen snorted and let Root go, heading out of the shadows and back into the main entrance area. Root trailed along behind her, pulling a compact from her pocket and checking her face in the small mirror. Her lipstick was still intact, only slightly smudged. Joss had lent it to her, and Root made a note to thank her.

Closing the mirror with a snap, Root stuck it back into her pocket. John had spotted them and he walked over, holding up the tickets. Root tried to put a smile on her face, but she was sure it was lacking. John stopped in front of them.

"Harold and Grace are here," John mumbled, holding out two tickets. "Do you mind if I -"

"Go for it," Root interrupted. "Let Sameen do what you brought her here for."

She snatched the tickets from his hand and walked away from him, knowing Sameen would follow. A few feet away the gravel gave way and hard dirt started. It got easier to walk and Root felt a little more grounded. She knew that she should play nice and not give them away, but the night was hot and Root felt a little bit out of control.

Soft thuds behind her told her that Sameen was close by and Root stopped in front of a teenager wearing a hideous white and red striped shirt. He glanced at her face and paled. Nervously reaching out, he took the tickets from her hand and ripped the ends off.

"Have a good night," he mumbled, handing the tickets back.

Root ignored him, walking through the small gate that led into the fair. The sound grew as she walked down the main street, booths and food tents set up around her. In the distance, rides stood tall. Maybe she and Sameen could ride the ferris wheel later.

Sighing, Root stopped walking and turned around. Sameen was meandering toward her, hands in her pockets. She looked unbothered and calm and it made Root feel a little bit better. Stopping in front of her, Sameen looked up at her, eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Are you going to be angry all night?" Sameen asked, smirking. "I'm not complaining. It's pretty hot."

Root laughed, her anger disappearing. "You like that?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe I'll fight someone tonight."

Something passed through Sameen's eyes, but it didn't last long enough for Root to figure out what it was. Sameen offered her arm. "Let's go find something to do, wild girl."

They walked down the street looking at games and food. It was nice to spend time out in public, doing something fun and carefree. The night passed quickly, eating cotton candy and drinking beer. Sameen had won Root a small stuffed bear, and Root had dragged her into the shadows to kiss her as thanks.

Root felt like a teenager, giddy from holding hands and flirting. She would have died to do something like this as a kid, going on dates like this. Now she could do it as much as she wanted. Even if she and Sameen didn't last forever, Root knew what this felt like now, what being with someone who cared about her felt like. She felt happier than she could ever remember.

Root leaned back against a tree, brushing her fingers through Sameen's hair. They were tucked into the shadows between two tents and Sameen was pressed against her, head turned to watch the people streaming by. It felt easy to be close like this. Pushing away from Root, Sameen put her hands on her hips.

"We should probably find Reese soon," she grumbled. "I don't know how long it's been."

"Let's just go to my place." Root reached down to pick up the stuffed bear, her new prized possession. "We'll go back in the morning and tell him we got lost."

The same look that had been haunting Sameen all night passed through her eyes and she looked away. Shoving her hands into her pockets, she scuffed the ground with the toes of her boot, grinding it into the dirt. Groaning loudly, Sameen dropped her head back.

"Do you want to ride the ferris wheel?" she asked, sounding frustrated.

Root chuckled. "Are you afraid of heights or something? We don't have to."

Glaring, Sameen took Root's hand and led her back out into the light. They started for the ferris wheel, Root keeping an eye on Sameen. Something was up with her tonight. She'd been so angry at John before, although Root could definitely understand that. There was something else, too.

They got in line for the ride and Sameen dropped her hand. Root was glad that they were going to sit for a while on the quietest ride. It would be nice to get some rest after all the walking around. Maybe she could even convince Sameen to make out with her. The cars were enclosed and more private than a tree. They wouldn't get caught.

Stepping forward, the man in charge of the ride opened a door to an empty carriage for them and Root stepped in, Sameen behind her. They settled into their sets across from each other and Root smiled as the man shut the door.

She quickly crossed the small space, ducking as she moved to sit next to Sameen. To her displeasure, Sameen switched to the seat Root had just left. She spread her legs, resting her elbows on her knees as the ride started to move, stuffed bear in her hands. That look returned to her eyes, and Root sat back, tugging off her gloves as she waited for Sameen to speak.

"I have to tell you something," Sameen breathed. "I'm not sure if it's good or bad news for you."

Root's stomach tensed, suddenly nervous. She wasn't sure what sort of news would be both good and bad. Maybe Sameen's job was transferring her to another city? Root would go with her. Maybe Sameen had saved enough to move out of John's house, and was going to move into the city. It would be harder to split her time between Sameen and John, but Root could make it work.

"What is it?"

Sighing, Sameen ran a hand over her hair. "Reese knows about us."

Root's stomach dropped, her pulse loud in her ears. John knew about them. She was trying to think of a moment that night when Sameen could have told him, when they had talked without her there. She took a deep breath, not understanding how or when or what it meant. He knew. He hadn't said anything.

"What?" she gasped, gloves clenched in her fists. "He does? When did you tell him?"

Sameen's shoulders slumped. "I didn't. I mean, I did, but he figured out that something was going on. He could tell that I… He knew."

"But- Because of this weekend? It was his suggestion that you stay with me in his room!" Root shook her head. "Because he already knew? Why wouldn't he tell me?"

"He- We talked about it on Saturday, while you were sleeping." Sameen sat up straight, looking guilty. "I told him that I'd tell you when you were feeling better. I didn't-"

"You could have told me Sunday!" Root stared at her, confused. "I'm not a child, Sameen. I got a bruise; I wasn't dying."

Sameen winced. "There's more. The bad news."

"Wait," Root said, stopping her. "He's known since Saturday, and he's still letting you stay with him. What does that mean? Was he… not upset?"

Root wished she didn't care about the answer. It didn't matter, because it wouldn't affect her after tonight, but she still cared. She didn't want to feel like she'd wasted the last four years of her life on someone who didn't even like her. What if the first person she'd had sex with hadn't even wanted to do it?

She felt a cold tear roll down her face, and she angrily reached up to swipe it away. Looking out the window, she saw them pass the fair worker, as they started their second revolution. She didn't even like John, and she knew that she had never loved him like that, but the thought of losing so much time, trying so hard for nothing, made her heart hurt.

"He…" Sameen stretched across the small space, putting the bear down to take Root's hands and hold them gently. She waited for Root to look back at her, and Root could see that she was struggling with something. Sameen licked her lips. "He's been… He and Mr. Finch are…"

A stone formed in Root's stomach as she understood what Sameen was trying to say. She felt like she was going to vomit, her heart pounding painfully in her chest. Sucking in a breath, Root tried to form words, dizziness making it hard. She tried to tell herself that it didn't matter, that she had Sameen, that John was just a footnote in her life, but it hurt too much right now.

"How long?" she asked, her voice sounding flat. She swallowed. "How long have they been doing it? Was it all a lie?"

That anger filled Sameen's face again, a low growl filling her throat as she bared her teeth. "Six years," she answered.

Root closed her eyes. So, that was it. That was why Mr. Finch had pushed them together, and why John worked such long hours, only took cases with Mr. Finch. Harold. Root couldn't give him her respect anymore. She only had anger for him now.

It almost hurt more that it was Harold, and not just an affair with another woman. Harold had taken Root in as soon as she'd graduated from college. They'd been working together for fifteen years, and she'd made so little an impact that he was fine with letting her live a lie. Root's head hurt, her bruise pulsing.

Did she really matter so little? What was the point of all the years she spent lying to herself, pretending that this was her? Did her job even matter, if the rest of her life was worthless? Root loved computers, loved technology, but there was no work without Harold. Why should she bother even going in on Monday, if she wasn't covering for Harold and John anymore? Would he just fire her now that she wasn't of use to him?

Root looked at Sameen and met worried eyes. She wondered if Sameen even liked her, or if Root was just convenient again. Would she wake up one day to find a note on her pillow saying Sameen had moved on without her? All of this stress just made Root feel like a child again, and she almost laughed.

She'd spent the past few months trying to feel young again, like her true self, and suddenly she did, but it wasn't like she wanted. Root remembered spending her time working, worried that she wouldn't be able to afford rent, her mother's medicine, food. She remembered the fist fights at the bar where she worked, trying to keep herself safe. She remembered sleeping in trees so the rumble of trains would wake her up, and she could steal supplies off unlocked cars.

It had been wild, and stressful, and she remembered why she'd left her hometown. She'd been desperate to leave it all behind, pretend like she didn't have a dying mother, like she wasn't from a dying town. This time, she didn't have a shiny future. There was no college ahead of her, Harold wasn't going to give her another job. It was just her, with nothing to look forward to.

"Root," Sameen said softly, pulling Root back to the present. "We have to get off."

Blinking, Root nodded and took her hands back. She realized the man was holding the door open for her, and she climbed out, hands clutching her skirt. Heading back to the fair's entrance, Root didn't bother listening for Sameen's bootsteps on the ground. She wanted to be home and safe, but she wasn't even sure what that would mean.

"Root!" Sameen called after her. She appeared at her side, eyebrows drawn down. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," Root bit. She took a shaking breath, holding herself together. "I'm doing great."

Sameen grabbed her arm, pulling her to a stop and forcing her to turn around. "Talk to me. I know you're upset. Tell me what you're thinking."

Root took her arm away and glared. "What am I supposed to do now?" she asked, angry at herself as tears welled up in her eyes. She looked away, at the couples on dates and families having a good time around them. "I can't go back to John's house. I can't go to work. I can't- " She took a deep breath, covering her face with her hands. "I've known Harold for fifteen years. John for four. I don't have any other friends. What if I get fired? I don't have anything."

"Hey," Sameen said quietly, reaching out to wrap her hands around Root's wrists and pull her arms down. Sameen was watching Root with wide, calm eyes. "You have me."

Root shivered, feeling cold despite the summer air. "But for how long? How long until I don't mean anything to you either?"

Instead of answering, Sameen pulled Root into her arms, wrapping them around Root's waist. Root wanted to pull away, to say that they were in public and someone would see, but she couldn't. She dropped her head onto Sameen's shoulder, crying silently. It felt so nice to be held and supported like this.

Sameen had been so patient with her, and so kind. From the beginning, she'd taken it slow, letting Root decide when to make a move and start something. Sameen had talked to her, gotten to know her. Root finally felt seen. She slid her arms around Sameen's shoulders letting the feel of Sameen's body ground her.

"What do we do now?" Root asked quietly. "I guess I have to talk to him."

"I could still beat him up," Sameen offered.

That made Root chuckle, and she shifted her head, pressing her cheek into Sameen's shoulder. "I can beat him up myself. Can we sleep at my place tonight? After I talk to him, I guess. I don't want to be in that house."

"Of course." Sameen sighed, the sound loud in Root's ear. "There aren't a lot of things that I care about. I try to hold on to what makes it through."

Straightening up, Root wiped her eyes. She was a little embarrassed to be crying in front of Sameen again. Sameen was so cool and so calm, always. Meeting her eyes, she felt a little bit better. They wouldn't have gotten together if she wasn't sure. They didn't exactly hurry into this. They'd chosen it.

Root took Sameen's face in her hands, kissing her softly. Sameen's strong arms kept her close, kept her safe. Root's world narrowed to the places they were touching, everything focused on the way Sameen made her feel warm, and cared for. Even as it seemed like Root could explode into a million pieces, burn up from the inside, she felt solid in Sameen's grip.

Pulling away, Root sucked in air, her body trembling. She blinked down at Sameen, smiling when Sameen smiled up at her. This is what she'd wanted her relationship with John to be all those years ago. She'd wanted someone to support her as she lived her life, someone who understood how important her work was, who would like her as she was, and not force her to be anything else.

"I like you a lot," Root sighed. She let go of Sameen, stepping back and running her hands over her face. Her make-up was probably destroyed, and she was sure she looked gross from all her crying. Sameen was looking up at her like she hung the moon and Root chuckled, lightly pushing her away. "Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?" Sameen scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Like you like me."

Sameen stuck her tongue out at Root, glaring half-heartedly. She grinned, putting her hands on her hips and glancing around at the people passing by. Root watched her watch the crowd and knew that she was going to be ok. They were going to be ok. Sameen just kept proving how much she cared about Root, even if she might not be the most affectionate or romantic.

Sameen was always there for her. She made sure that Root was happy, and comfortable. Even if she'd caused the bruise on Root's forehead, she had more than made up for it. She was much better at behaving like a boyfriend than John. John had never won Root a stuffed bear.

Root realized that they didn't have the stuffed bear with them and panicked. She spun around, looking at the ground, but didn't see it. Her heart started racing again and she looked at Sameen, tears welling up in her eyes again.

"What's wrong?" Sameen asked, reaching out to hold Root's shoulders. "Did something just happen?"

"The bear!" Root gasped. "It's gone!"

Sameen's shoulders slumped in relief and she gave Root a wry smile. "Root. I thought you were going to have another panic attack. It's just a bear."

"You won it for me." Root ran her hands through her hair. "No one's ever won something for me, like that."

Squinting at her, Sameen seemed to make a decision. She nodded and took Root's hand, leading her to a nearby booth. They stopped in front of a game and Sameen quickly pulled her wallet out of her back pocket. The teenager running the game opened his mouth to give his spiel, but Sameen cut him off.

"Just give me a ball, twerp."

She shoved a quarter at him and put the wallet away. Root glanced at the pyramid of milk bottles at the other end of the booth, and laughed as Sameen only took one of the three balls the teen offered. At least she knew Sameen had good aim. Moving aside, Root gave her some room to swing her arm.

Sameen glanced at her, rolling her eyes when she saw that Root had moved away. She cocked her arm back and threw it with a grunt. The baseball crashed into the pyramid of milk bottles, cracking one and continuing on to hit the back wall of the booth. It hit with a loud thump, and the teen boy jumped.

He raced across the booth for a small teddy bear, but Sameen jumped after him, reaching in to grab the front of his shirt and pulled him close. Root couldn't hear what she said, but the boy paled even further, nodding frantically. Sameen released him and he jumped up, pulling down an oversized stuffed dog. It was black and brown and practically as big as Sameen was. She took it from him and turned to Root, looking incredibly smug.

"Here you go," Sameen said, handing it over. "Three times as big as the last one."

Root took it, her hands sinking into its soft fur. She wrapped her arms around it, grinning like an idiot. It seemed like a silly thing to be so happy about, but Root knew that this toy was going to be her prized possession for a long time. She leaned down to press a kiss to Sameen's lips.

"Come on," Sameen said, gesturing toward the front of the fair, "let's head out. I think we've had enough excitement for one day."

They fell into step, heading toward the entrance. Root was exhausted. She felt like she could sleep for an entire day, but she knew that the night wasn't over. They still had to ride back in the car and she still had to talk to John. It wouldn't even be over tomorrow. There was work, and Harold.

Squeezing the animal in her arms, Root decided to focus on the positive. She had Sameen. She had her dream job for a little while longer. She had a new prize. She and Sameen were going to live together in her apartment. There was no more pretending. That was good.

"I really like you," Root said quietly. She pressed her cheek into her new friend's face. "I know it's probably obvious, but…" She shrugged. "I just wanted to say it."

"Yeah, I like you, too." Sameen didn't look at her. She shoved her hands into her pockets. "It's not the same, but it's what I have. I like spending time with you."

"That's enough, Sameen."

They got to the entrance and saw John leaning against the shed, his arms crossed. Root took a deep breath and stopped walking. The sadness she had felt turned to anger. How dare he use her? How dare he treat her like she was nothing? She looked at Sameen, frowning.

"Think he'll notice I've been crying?"

Sameen shrugged. "You're a little red, but it's not too bad."

Nodding, Root started walking again. The lights were bright above the entrance to the park. The city had spared no expense. Outside the entrance, the parking lot was dimly lit, not nearly as stark and revealing. Maybe Root could walk past John and keep him from seeing her until they were out of the spotlight, avoid the embarrassment.

It didn't really matter. They were going to talk tonight; the truth was out and there was no hiding it. The hard ground turned back into gravel and Root lost her balance. Sameen caught her easily, holding her up. She took the stuffed dog in one arm, and offered Root her other. Taking it, Root gave her a thankful smile, and they continued on their way to John.

He pushed himself off the shed as they got close, coming toward them. Biting her lip, Root kept herself from saying something. If she got started now, she'd cause a scene in front of everyone. She squeezed her stuffed animal instead, smiling at John as she imagined breaking his nose.

"Ready?" he asked, eyes running over Root's face. He glanced at Shaw and paled slightly.

Sameen's face was carefully blank, her eyes tight. The anger practically radiated off of her. Root smiled, happy to have her close, and turned back to John.

"We're ready."

It didn't take too long to get back in the car, and they started for home. The silence in the car was much tenser than it had been on the ride up, something Root hadn't imagined possible. The stuffed dog was in the backseat with Sameen, and Root wished she had it to hold. Instead, she just clasped her hands together, knuckles white.

Her gloves had gotten left in the ferris wheel, along with the first stuffed bear, but Root couldn't bring herself to care. She'd hated the gloves anyway. Remembering slipping in the mud on the way to the fair, Root glanced down at her shoes. They were dirty, and Root leaned forward to take them off.

Now her stockings would get ruined while she walked into the house. Root hiked up her skirt and unclipped her stockings. She rolled them down easily and stuck them into her soiled shoes. The air-conditioning in the car ran along her bare legs and she shivered.

As exhausted as she was, she felt filled to the brim with anger. The sadness was still there, but Root was so angry with the lies that she couldn't think about anything else. Maybe in a few days, she'd be sad again, thinking about wasted years and lost potential, but right now it all just made her want to hit something.

Staring out the window as they drove out of the city, Root crossed her arms. She wasn't even sure she wanted to talk to John. There was always the option to just tell him to go fuck himself and let Sameen drive her home. Most of Root's things had found their way back to her apartment in the last week anyway. There were probably only a few pieces of clothing left, and Sameen's stuff.

"Are you undressing in the car?" John asked her, staring out the front window into the night. "You never go out without gloves or stockings."

Root rolled her eyes. "Time for a change."

He didn't answer. The Texaco rolled by and Root knew that they were almost home. She wanted to look back at Sameen, but she'd have to look past John. If she saw him right now, she wasn't sure she could stop herself from hitting him. Instead, she just looked down at her bare knees sticking out from under her skirt.

It had been a long time since she'd been this angry. Root wanted to destroy something, tear something to pieces, scream until she lost her voice. There wasn't much to do, though, and her anger just turned over inside of her, burning a hole in her chest. She couldn't think past the feeling.

The car turned onto their street, and Root picked up her shoes. She was tempted to just throw them out the window, but the silk stockings had been expensive. Besides, just because she wasn't going to wear them out in the world anymore, didn't mean she couldn't wear them just for Sameen. It would be a shame to get rid of all of her feminine things and lose the pleasure of having Sameen unwrap her.

John pulled into the driveway and Root opened her door. She climbed out of the car before Sameen could get to her, the asphalt of the driveway scratching at her bare feet. It was painful, but Root liked feeling grounded. She slammed her door shut.

The sound of John's shoes crunching along the ground irritated Root and she clenched her jaw, turning her back on him. The noise disappeared and she knew he was crossing the lawn to get to the front door. Sameen closed her own door and looked at Root.

"Are you going inside?" she asked quietly, the dog tucked under her arm. "I can just pack a bag and meet you out here."

"I need to talk to him," Root sighed. "Although, I don't think I have anything nice to say."

Sameen snorted. "Fuck him. He doesn't deserve anything nice."

"Thanks." Root shrugged, crossing her arms. "I guess...I'll talk to him, and you can pack a bag. Don't-" Wincing, Root glanced over her shoulder and saw that John had gone inside. She stepped forward and put her hands on Sameen's shoulders. "Don't feel like you have to come with me. I can take the bus. You don't have to hate him on my account."

"Root. I'm not leaving you alone tonight. It's not about him. It's about you."

Root grinned like an idiot, her head dropping to the side. How had she convinced Sameen to care about her? She felt like the luckiest woman on the planet, even if the rest of her circumstances were awful. Looking at Sameen's annoyed look, she considered avoiding the talk with John after all. Why ruin this moment?

She knew she had to get it over with, though. This would be the last time she'd be in this house. She knew she'd never come back. If they had left anything of hers, Sameen could go and get it. Root was washing her hands of the whole thing. Maybe she'd convince Joss to let her come to their make-up softball game, and she could tell the homeowner's association what she really thought of them.

Turning, Root looked at the front door to John's house. She flashed Sameen a nervous smile and started across the grass. It was cold and wet beneath her bare feet, and Root knew she'd miss having so much green around. She would just make Sameen come to the park with her. They could jog together, or picnic, and wouldn't they see so much green soon when they left the city?

She reached the front porch, and climbed the two steps up to the door. It was cracked, and she just pushed it open and stepped inside. Leaning down to put her shoes on the floor, she hesitated, straightening up. She wasn't staying here. She put them on the small side table instead.

Walking into the living room, her feet touched the soft carpet and she felt unsteady. This house had been her home for so long, and she hated that she was going to miss it. She lost her virginity in this house. She watched tv here for four years, did laundry, cooked, and cleaned.

Remembering that brought her anger back. This house had been a home to her, and she thought she would get married and live here forever. Her guard had never been up in this house. She'd been happy here. This was where she'd met Sameen. When she left this house, they'd never be able to revisit it. She stared across the living room, out the back windows at the pool.

It hadn't been all positive. She'd spent four years wondering what was wrong with her, wondering why John wasn't spending time with her, why he came home so late some nights. How many times had she lain in bed, listening through the door as John and Harold talked at the dinner table? How many times had she run home from work to cook dinner, only for John not to show up?

She used to stand in the bathroom, looking her best, and wondering if she wasn't pretty enough, or good enough for him. She'd constantly compare herself to Grace and wonder why it was so hard to be like her. What was wrong with Root that she couldn't be like that? Like all the women around them? All that worry for a man who had never cared about her.

Root looked around and saw John standing on the other side of the couch. He was looking at her with sad eyes, and it reminded her of how much time she'd given him. She crossed the room to him, and slapped him with all her strength. It was satisfying to watch him blink, stepping backwards. She might not be very strong, but red still bloomed on his cheek and he brought a hand up to rub it.

"How dare you?" Root hissed, her hands clenching into fists. "Four years! You kept this from me for all four years!" She jumped forward, punching her fist into his chest. He stumbled back and she did it again. "How could you lie to me? Did I mean anything to you? Ever?"

He put his hands up, moving aside and out of her reach. "I'm so sorry, Root. I didn't think it would last this long."

"I thought you loved me," she said through clenched teeth. "I gave you… I tried so hard to be enough for you, but it was never going to happen. You couldn't do me the courtesy of telling me the truth? I would have covered for you! I would have been happy to keep up appearances while I lived my own life."

Wincing, John shrugged. "I didn't know that."

"You didn't think to ask." Her head spun, bruise pulsing. "Was there ever a time when you cared about me? Or did I really waste so much time with someone who wasn't worth it?"

"I care about you," he sighed. "I really like you as a person, just not as a… Not that way."

"I thought you were going to propose to me soon."

He nodded, his face tired. "I was. I was thinking about it. I think I would have told you before we got married."

Root crossed her arms. She hated how much she wanted to forgive him. It was hard to hate someone you'd spent so much time with. Her head was pounding, the bruise, the loud fair, the upset getting to her. She squeezed her hands into fists again, the tensing helping her focus.

"I don't know what to say," she told him, closing her eyes. "I don't think I'm ever going to want to see you again."

"I hope that isn't true." He sighed. "I hope that you and Sameen have a wonderful life, and I hope you can forgive me eventually."

Root shrugged her shoulders up, feeling overwhelmed and angry and exhausted. She realized that this was a break-up. It wasn't just a fight or a confrontation. When she walked out of this house, there was no going back. It would be her and Sameen against the world.

Root thought back to three months ago when she'd started thinking about Sameen as more than friends. It had felt so right to be around her, the opposite of what life with John had felt like. Life with John had been so hard, but it had been safe. This was the end of that safety, and now Root was hurtling forward, toward happiness or disaster.

She didn't want to be in this house anymore. She didn't want to be standing in front of a man she had never loved, who had never loved her back. It made her nervous to full jump into wildness, even as she could feel her heart pumping with excitement. Her first choice had been to be with Sameen, and now her second choice was here. The time for caution was over.

Root opened her eyes and looked at John. He was just a man, not so different from herself. He loved someone he wasn't supposed to, just like her, but he had chosen to hide. Root had been hiding, too, but now she was choosing to live fully, as her true self, and she realized that there had never been another option for her.

"I guess I should say I'm sorry, even if I'm not." Root shrugged. "For cheating on you, too."

"It's ok," he responded, smiling sadly. "I think I wanted it to happen. I want you to be happy."

"Goodbye, John," she breathed. "Good luck."

Turning away, Root crossed the living room and picked up her shoes and stockings. She walked out of the house, and took a deep breath, feeling like she had suddenly lost a burden. It was over. This life of pretending was over.

Laughter bubbled up in her throat and she let it spill out. Dropping her shoes and sitting down on the top step of John's porch, Root let herself laugh. She hid her face into her hands, letting the sound of her freedom drift into the quiet night. She started crying again, but she didn't care. She felt so light she could float away.

A throat cleared in front of her and Root looked up. Sameen was squatting on the step in front of her, a small smile on her face. She raised an eyebrow, looking amused at Root's outburst. She rested her forearms on Root's knees.

"Laughing and crying," she said softly. "You're going to have to tell me what that means. I've got nothing."

Root grinned at her, wiping her cheeks. "It means you should take me home," she answered. "It means you should congratulate me on being single."

Sameen raised an eyebrow, standing. "I mean, you're not single. You're just not… double."

"So, you're my girlfriend?" Root asked, taking Sameen's hand and standing up. "Am I your girlfriend?"

Leaning down to pick up Root's shoes, Sameen took a moment to answer. She started down the walkway. After a few steps, she turned around to walk backwards.

"I am. You are."

Root leapt forward, wrapping her arms around Sameen's shoulders. "Does that mean I can kiss you in public? They'll just go to John, and he'll have to talk to them. Let him deal with it."

Smirking, Sameen stopped and pushed up on her toes, kissing Root gently. She put one hand on Root's hip, the other still holding her shoes. Root felt light-headed and she wasn't sure if it was from the ups and downs of the night, or just from Sameen. Either way, she knew that the warmth that filled her now wasn't from anger.

She was free to be with Sameen now, fully. No more hiding, or lying, or sneaking around. They would live together, only do what they wanted to and go where they wanted to go. Root opened her mouth to deepen the kiss, but Sameen pulled away.

"Let's go home," she suggested. "I think we should celebrate."

Root nodded and moved around Sameen to the bike. While Root had been distracted by John, Sameen had packed her things into a duffel bag and strapped it to the bike, the stuffed dog secured on top. The seat where Root usually was had been half-covered and she turned to grin at Sameen.

"We'll have to sit close," she murmured, holding a hand out for her shoes. "I hope you can handle it."

Rolling her eyes, Sameen handed the shoes over. "Just because you punched someone, you think you're so hot."

Root just laughed again. She pulled her stockings out of her shoes and then tossed the shoes onto John's lawn. They were worthless now and he can deal with them. They got dirty because he wanted to go to a fair. She stepped toward Sameen and tucked her stockings into Sameen's front pocket.

"You'll have to carry me inside," Root joked. "I can't walk around New York barefoot."

Sameen winked at her and climbed onto the bike. She started the engine as Root climbed on behind her. Her skirt hiked up, baring her legs to mid-thigh, but Root didn't care. She would have left the dress on John's lawn, too. Putting her feet on the footrests, she wrapped herself around Sameen, pressing as close as she could. Sameen kicked down thruster and they sped down the street.


	21. While The City Sleeps

Shaw chuckled, carefully setting Root's feet back on the ground and moving out of the way. They'd made it to her building quickly, all the traffic lights turning in their favor. Shaw had carried Root to her apartment door, the weight of her bag, the stuffed dog, and Root barely a strain. Her months of working in a warehouse, lifting heavy metal parts, had strengthened her.

She swiped her hair off her forehead out of habit. The long curls were gone thanks to her recent haircut, but her hair still teased her face. Leaning against the wall beside the door, she dug into the pocket of her jeans for Root's keys, watching as Root smoothed her puffy skirt down. Wearing a dress meant that Root didn't have pockets, and that left it to Shaw to act as packmule.

Technically, that should have been Reese's job, as her boyfriend. Since Shaw had told him the truth on Saturday, he'd been letting her take the lead, sleeping in the guestroom so they could sleep together and letting Shaw be primary caretaker. He would have been bad at it anyway. Now it was Shaw's full time job.

She held the keys out for Root to take. Smiling, Root pressed a quick, hard kiss to Shaw's lips before taking them from her hand. She opened the door easily and walked inside, her bare feet quiet on the wooden floor. The hall light flickered on as Shaw pushed herself off the wall and followed, closing the door behind her.

Every other time she'd been to Root's apartment, it had been a pit stop. They'd only spent the night here two or three times, and the first time hardly counted. Shaw wasn't sure how to behave now that she lived here. Now that she didn't have to leave again for John's house.

Root dropped the keys onto the dining table, beside a pile of shredded wire, and started down the hallway to the bedroom. Shaw lingered in front of the door, her hands wrapped around the strap of her duffel back, the large dog still strapped on. It didn't seem right to kick off her shoes and act like she wasn't just a guest. This was still Root's home.

She tried to imagine making breakfast and dinner in this new kitchen. Root would have to show her where everything was. Would they read books in the living room together? Listen to records? What would happen if Shaw needed time to herself. Would Root be offended if she went to the bedroom to sit by herself?

Taking a step forward, she looked over the books in the living room and the piles of parts on the table. She would have to learn new routines and new ways to share a home. It wouldn't be too hard. They already knew each other, and this is what she wanted. It was a good sort of change.

"Sameen," Root said quietly. She stood at the other end of the hall, silhouetted by the light from her bedroom. "Come put your stuff down."

Nodding, Shaw stepped out of her shoes and squatted to set them neatly beside the door. Root had a pair of heels there already, ones Shaw had never seen her wear. She wondered if there was a lot of Root's wardrobe left to discover or if she was planning to toss it all out and start wearing pants. Shaw would miss seeing her silk-covered legs.

Remembering that Root had put her stockings into Shaw's pocket, she stood and pulled them out. They were impossibly soft, sheer and shimmering. Shaw had never worn anything as fine or expensive, except the suit that Root had bought her. It was hanging in the closet here, untouched since their trip.

Taking a deep breath, she folded the stockings neatly. This time, Shaw was going to pay rent. It didn't matter that Root made more money than her. They were equals, partners, and Shaw wasn't going to let herself be a kept woman. If Root wouldn't take rent money, then Shaw could buy the groceries. She could drive Root to work every morning.

That didn't really matter now. Root was off from work until next Monday anyway. Maybe she could drive Shaw to the factory and Shaw could show her off to the others. Smiling at the thought, she pulled her socks off and tucked them into her boots. She wasn't a teenage boy who needed to brag about the girl he'd bagged.

Walking into the bedroom, Shaw saw Root sitting in front of the wall of windows, looking out over the city. Her bare legs were curled under her, hands resting in her lap. She looked like someone on the cover of a trashy romance novel, staring longing out across the city in desperate hope that she would see her love.

Was she regretting her decision? Probably not. Shaw remembered the relief in Root's voice after she'd talked to Reese, and the way she'd laughed and cried. That was a bit more complicated than Shaw could handle, but she knew that Root was happy.

It wouldn't be that much of a change for her, really. She went from living with Reese to living with Shaw. They could still have breakfast together in the mornings, and see movies on Sunday nights. Shaw would find some events in the city for them to go to, a dance or a show in the park.

Thinking about plans made Shaw realize that life wouldn't change too much for her, either. She'd already been living with Root, spending time with her, going out to the bar with her. Root had crept into her life already. Her break-up with Reese just made it easier. It gave them more time to figure out what they wanted to do.

She coughed into her fist, holding up the stockings when Root looked at her. "Missing something?"

"No," Root answered, smiling. "I don't miss them. Just throw them onto the couch."

Shaw did, moving toward the sitting area. This bedroom was more than twice the size of any other she'd had, and she felt small in the large space. "Maybe we could put our work benches here. The dining table is too covered in parts to be useful." Lifting the strap of her duffel bag, she ducked and pulled it over her head. It landed heavily on the soft couch and sank into the cushion. "Is it sad that all of my possessions can fit in one bag?"

Root turned to face her, bruise stark in the overhead light. She put her feet on the floor. "I think it's impressive. You've figured out what really matters to you."

"Two pairs of boots and too many shirts."

Laughing, Root leaned back against the windows. "I'll have to empty a couple drawers for you. I wasn't expecting you to move in tonight."

"Surprise," Shaw said. She wondered if she should sit and get comfortable or if she should stay standing. It seemed weird to just stand in the center of the room, but it might be weirder to lounge like she lived here. Even if she now did. "Regretting it, already?"

"No." Root met her eyes, face serious. "And I never will. You're the best decision I've made in a long time."

Cocking an eyebrow, Shaw smirked. "You're going to give me an ego."

"You've already got one," she joked. "You think you're so cool."

"I am so cool."

Shaw scratched her head, deciding to sit after all. She couldn't stand all night and if Root wasn't ready to sleep, then she should get comfortable. Walking to the other couch, she sat down carefully, crossing her legs in front of her. Putting an arm on the back cushions, she looked around the room.

She gestured to the bookshelves and couches. "Why do you have a second sitting room in your bedroom?"

"I thought I'd have friends." Chuckling dryly, Root rubbed a hand over her forehead. "God, that sounds pathetic." She sighed. "I expected to make friends at work and have get-togethers to listen to records and talk about books and politics. It didn't quite turn out that way."

"I don't know about books and politics, but we could invite some people from the bar." Shaw shrugged. "I'm sure Fusco and Carter would love to listen to your jazz records. You've got plenty of friends now."

Root smiled at her, pulling her legs back onto the window seat. She stretched them out in front of her, bare feet pointing delicately. "I suppose I do. Thanks to you. That would be nice. We're buying food, though. I'm not cooking for a dinner party."

Wrinkling her nose, Shaw shook her head. "No one's talking about a dinner party. Gross."

They laughed, and Shaw was glad to see Root relax. It had been an emotional night, for Root, at least. Sighing again, Root looked out the window, studying the tall buildings around them. Shaw could tell something was bothering her.

"Are you…" Shaw hesitated. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Root answered quietly. "I'm just struggling a little to imagine the rest of my life. When I started working for Harold fifteen years ago, I had such a clear vision. I was going to enjoy my work surrounded by people who loved it as much as I was. I would take on big projects, and meet pioneers in the field. Be a pioneer in the field. Instead… I don't want to go back to work."

"Then, quit." Shaw shrugged. "Get another job."

"There aren't other jobs." Root turned her head to frown at Shaw. "That's why Harold's offer was so important to me. That's why having his respect mattered. He hired me when no other women were being hired to companies like his. Even with my substantial resume, I won't be hired. At the end of the day, I'm just a woman in a man's field."

Shaw wasn't sure what advice to give, or what to say at all. She could understand why this was a big deal to Root, and why she was upset. Her choices were staying at the job, knowing that Harold didn't really respect her, or quitting and having a much harder time finding work. There wasn't an easy answer.

"I'm sorry," Root said, closing her eyes. "I'm just complaining."

"You can complain. I wish I had something good to say."

Opening her eyes again, Root gave her a small smile. "Just having you here helps. Knowing I'm not alone. I'm excited to spend more time together."

"I'm excited to live in the city," Shaw countered. "This is a nice apartment for a deadbeat like me. Imagine, me living with an ivy-leaguer."

"Imagine," Root breathed. She pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them. "I'm just a deadbeat-wannabe."

"There's still time." Shaw raised an eyebrow. "Quit your job and we can both be deadbeats, living on the road, washing cars and fixing fences for money. I'd love to see you covered in sweat and mud."

Grinning, Root raised her eyebrows, too, meeting Shaw's daring eyes with her own. "You joke, but I could live that way. I think I'd rather fix cars than wash them, but either would do. Let's move out west and become ranchers. I'll ride the horses and corrall our herds. You can handle the farming. We'll get a dog."

Shaw tilted her head, trying to see how serious Root was. They'd talked about leaving the city before, and now they were in a real position to do it. It wasn't an impossible idea to drive out west and try to start a new life. Would people question two women owning a farm out west? Maybe they could hire a man to do some work and take some of the suspicion off them.

Shaw looked out the window now, too. She'd barely lived in this city at all, but she wouldn't miss it. Carter and Fusco would keep in touch and let her know how the bar was doing. She and Reese had already spent two decades as penpals. What was a few decades more?

"We don't have to start buying horses right now," Root said, getting Shaw's attention again. "It's fun to talk about the possibility, though. I think I'd look majestic on a black stallion."

Snorting, Shaw rolled her eyes. "Who has an ego now?"

"You like it." Root raised a shoulder, giving Shaw a teasing smile. "Or would you rather I play frightened? Like I was when we first met." She batted her eyelashes, eyes wide. "See a movie? Just the two of us? I'll explode!"

Shaw laughed, covering her eyes with her hand at the memory of Root shuddering beside her in the dark theatre. "You were like a scared lamb. It was maddening. I was half-sure you were doing it on purpose."

"I was not," she clarified, blushing. "You just had that effect on me."

Shaw winked. It made her warm to know that she'd affected Root that much. She knew she was hot, and she'd never had trouble finding someone to sleep with, but it was different to know that someone had longed for her. No one had gotten under her skin like Root had, or made the effort to get to know her before they had sex.

Root was special, in a lot of ways, but Shaw liked how bold she was. Even when she was scared of her feelings, she'd still spent time with Shaw and wanted to try new things. She was constantly doing things that surprised Shaw, like coming to the bar and chugging beer at a street race. There was a lot more to her than how she looked.

"I was scared of you, too," Shaw said quietly. "I knew I was going to like you."

"Really?" Root smiled at her. "I thought you just liked me for my body."

"Well," she snorted, "that didn't hurt." She pushed her hair from her forehead, frowning. "You wouldn't stop bugging me, always trying to be my friend and hang out. You were just… yourself and I liked that I could be me."

Root hugged her legs tighter, resting her cheek on her knee to give Shaw a considering glance. "I like how you are always yourself, too. No pretending. I think you're the only person who's really seen me in years. John always saw what he wanted to see. Harold, too. Zoe sees what I could be, if I listened to her. But with you?" She shrugged. "It's just us."

Sniffing, Shaw looked away, the emotional talk making her uncomfortable. "Yeah. Anyway. Did you want to do something tonight? Or just go to sleep?"

"I need a shower," Root answered, sighing. "I smell like carnival food and cigarettes. I can still feel John's arm around my waist. I need to get clean."

Standing, Shaw walked around the couch, and headed for the window seat. Root shifted, putting her feet on the floor and holding her hands out. Shaw stepped into the space between Root's legs, putting her hands on Root's shoulders as long arms wrapped around her waist.

"We could shower together? I'll scrub your back."

Root tugged Shaw closer until their chests pressed together, and lifted a hand to cup the back of Shaw's neck. Shaw let Root pull her head down for a kiss. Her mouth was soft and hot, like always, and Shaw's eyes drifted closed as their tongues brushed together.

A part of her brain was telling her to hurry up, touch as much as she could before time ran out, but they had no clock to race now. She would never have to let Root sleep in someone else's bed again. Root would never have someone else's hands on her.

Shaw ran her hands up Root's neck to gently hold her face. Root's skin was so smooth beneath her fingers, the feel of it was intoxicating and Shaw brushed her thumbs over soft cheeks. Root's jaw moved against her palms as she opened her mouth, sighing happily into Shaw's. Shaw nipped at Root's bottom lip, drinking her happy sigh.

As excited as she was to take it slow, Shaw needed to touch more of Root's skin. She dropped her hands to Root's thighs, fisting them in her fluffy skirt. It was more fabric that it needed to be, the layers bunching between them. Shaw lifted the dress and ran her fingers over the waistband of Root's petticoat.

Root's hands found hers and moved them aside. Their mouths moved together as Root undid the clasp of her skirt and it fell open. Shaw tugged it down her long thighs and it fell to the floor. Root kicked her feet free and spread her legs again.

Shaw's hips pressed forward, her hands running down the outside of delicate thighs. A soft sound escaped Root at the touch, and her hands moved to Shaw's waist, holding her close. Squeezing the muscle under her hands, Shaw smiled against Root's lips, sucking her lip and releasing it with a pop.

"You're beautiful," Shaw breathed, moving her hands to Root's belt and quickly opening it. "Let's get you out of these clothes."

Nodding, Root pulled her mouth away. She pulled Shaw's tank top up, lifting it until Shaw had to raise her arms. Pulling it off, Root tossed it aside and started undoing Shaw's chest wrap. She licked her lips, swollen from kissing.

"I said you should get undressed," Shaw laughed. "Not me."

"I want to see you," Root answered, unwrapping Shaw with practiced hands, "and ladies always get what they want." She threw the wrap to the floor and spread her hands over Shaw's stomach, feeling the defined muscle there. "I used to dream about your body. Once I'd seen it, it haunted me. Perfect and inaccessible."

Shaw took a deep breath, brushing Root's hair out of her face with her hands, careful of the green and yellow bruise. "I thought about your body, too. Always hidden away. Except for your legs in those stockings."

Root hummed and leaned forward to kiss the skin between Shaw's breasts. She kissed the swell of Shaw's breast, lips lingering against hot skin. Shaw watched as red lips moved to take a brown nipple in her mouth and sucked in an unsteady breath. Root bit her gently, then with more force until a moan slipped from Shaw and her fingers tightened in Root's hair.

Her hand covered Shaw's other breast and she touched her eagerly. Shaw let her head fall back as she focused on the feeling of Root's touch. Her body grew warm, heat pooling in her stomach. Root seemed to have realized the time they had; her touches were agonizingly slow and deliberate.

Pulling Root's head back, Shaw grabbed her hands and hauled her upright, moving backwards into the room. Root spun around, lifting her hair, and Shaw pulled the zipper of her dress down. She started undoing the clasps of Root's corset bra while Root pulled her dress down her arms. It dropped to the floor and the bra fell after it. Keeping things tidy didn't seem so important now.

She saw the flash of a grin for a second before she yanked Root's head down, crashing their lips together. Their bodies pressed together, bare and hot. Shaw loved the way Root wrapped her arms around her waist like she was afraid Shaw would run away at any moment. She answered the tight grip by burying her hands in Root's hair and pulling until she got a whimper.

Nails dug into her back and she arched, gasping into Root's mouth. Teeth sunk into her lip painfully, making her groan. Root's confidence had grown since they started having sex and Shaw liked the small ways she tried to assert herself. Maybe one day, she'd let Root take the lead.

"Stop," Root sighed, pulling her mouth away. "I really do need that shower."

Nodding, Shaw sucking a sharp breath and took Root's hand. She led them to the door, Root's hand hot in her own. Their steps were almost silent on the wooden floor as they walked across the hallway and into Root's bathroom. The tile was cold under her bare feet and she shivered as she turned the light on.

Root's bathroom was large, like the rest of her apartment. White tile lined the walls, and soft blue cabinets stretched from the floor to ceiling beside a sink of the same color. Various lotions and soaps sat on shelves on either side of the mirror above the sink. Shaw didn't see any make-up and she wondered if it was hidden away in the cabinet.

A tub was set into the far wall, wide and deep. It was made of the same blue porcelain, with a cream-colored shower curtain hanging from a metal pipe stretch across the wall above it. The whole bathroom was spotless and the white and blue made it feel colder than it was. Maybe Root would be interested in a hot bath instead. As if she'd read Shaw's mind, Root pressed herself against Shaw's back and brushed her lips against her ear.

"Let's take a bath," Root said softly. "Will you bathe me?"

Shaw smiled and released Root's hand so she could turn around and run her fingers through long, brown hair. "We can wash that man right out of your hair."

Root's face lit up, her mouth dropping open in surprise. "A musical reference? Have you seen South Pacific?"

"Someone was playing it in the breakroom," Shaw answered, smirking. "Don't get too excited."

"If they make a film version, you'll have to take me to see it." Root pouted, sticking her lower lip out. "You will take me, won't you?"

Rolling her eyes, Shaw moved away from her toward the tub. "Sure, Root. I'll take you."

She heard footsteps behind her and looked over her shoulder to see Root walking to the sink. Her hips pressed into the sink as she leaned forward to look at her face in the mirror, eyebrows drawing down. Shaw pulled the shower curtain aside, impressed by the heavy cloth. Several bottles were sitting on the corner of the tub, a bar of soap on a dish attached to a wall tile.

"I'm getting used to the bruise," Root said into the mirror. "It's kind of pretty."

"You look tough," Shaw joked. She bent down, reaching for the two silver knobs in the wall above the tub. "Like you got in a fight."

"I look like I lost the fight."

Hot water poured from the faucet into the tub, splashing up against Shaw's arms. Before it got too hot, she put the small, rubber stopper into the drain. The sound of water rushing was loud and she didn't bother responding to Root. They were just making small talk anyway, and she only had so much of that in her.

She messed with the knobs until the water was hot, but not scalding and straightened, turning around to face Root. She was still looking at her bruise and Shaw wandered over to her. Wrapping her arms around Root's waist from behind, she pressed her face into her back.

Like this, she could smell the remnants of the carnival on Root's skin. It smelled like smoke, sugar, and sweat. She didn't mind it. Root's chest expanded as she took a deep breath and she turned around, still leaning against the sink. Smiling, she tapped a finger on Shaw's nose.

"You're not usually so affectionate. I'm going to get spoiled."

Shaw snorted, her hands settling on Root's hips. "You're already spoiled. I let you drive my motorcycle."

Root hummed. "You did. You also gave me your leather jacket."

"Not permanently." Shaw frowned, stepping back to give Root a disapproving look. "You're just borrowing it."

"Ok," Root said seriously. Her face was a mocking mirror of Shaw's. "I'm just borrowing it."

Giving Root a final glare, Shaw pulled away to check on the tub. It was a little more than halfway full and she turned the water off. Root appeared beside her, holding out a small bottle. She poured a clear liquid into the bath and the room filled with the smell of roses. She put the bottle back on the sink and hurried back to Shaw. Putting her hand on Shaw's shoulder, she stepped into the hot water.

Root sighed happily, standing in the hot water. Carefully, she sat down, her legs stretching across the tub, glistening as droplets stuck to her skin. Moving forward, she leaned backward to dip her chest and head under water. For a moment, she looked like a water goddess, hair spreading beautifully through the water.

Sitting up again, eyes closed, she smoothed her hair back. Shaw watched as water streamed down her breasts to her small waist and into the tub. Her cheeks were flecked with water like freckles and shook her hair out with her hands, back arched delicately.

Was this what it had been like for Root to stumble on Shaw naked in the bathroom? Shaw was speechless, taken aback by how perfect Root was. Her body was long and lean, curvy and feminine. Her skin seemed to sparkle under the fluorescent lights and it seemed like a miracle that she existed in the same place as Shaw.

Blinking her eyes open, Root gave her a sleepy smile, dimples appearing in her cheeks. She scooted backwards, spreading her legs and gesturing for Shaw to get in. Shaw shook her head, pulling herself together and climbed into the tub.

Awkwardly, she sat between Root's legs, the water almost covering her breasts. The heat made her aware of how tired she was, too, and she hid a yawn behind her hand. She crossed her legs under Root's, resting her head on Root's bent knee.

"I could fall asleep right here," Shaw said, closing her eyes. "Wake me up for work at six."

Laughing, Root bounced her knee, knocking Shaw's head off. "You can't sleep until you've bathed me."

"So spoiled." Shaw drew a circle in the air with her finger. "Turn around then."

Pulling her knees to her chest, Root turned, the water splashing around them. Shaw had to scoot back to make room, and she shifted onto her knees to get in a better position. She scooped water into her hands and poured it onto Root's head. The rose oil in the tub was almost overwhelming, but the smell relaxed Shaw and she could see Root's shoulders relaxing, too.

"Give me your shampoo," she ordered, holding a hand out toward it. "Just pour however much out."

"Yes, Ma'am."

She picked up a white bottle, unscrewing the lid. Tilting it, she squeezed the bottle lightly, pouring thick, satin liquid into Shaw's hand. Honeysuckle joined rose in the air and Shaw sniffed the shampoo before moving her hand over Root's hair and letting it drip down. She was thankful they'd be bathing at Root's apartment now and Root would always smell this good.

Slowly, she worked the shampoo into thick, dark hair, taking her time to cover all of it. Root's hair was beautiful and Shaw could guess that this was expensive soap. It was worth it, though. Scratching her fingers over Root's scalp, she massaged her head, working the soap in until it turned to suds.

Root tilted her head back, looking up toward the ceiling. Her legs were clutched to her chest as she tried to fit into her half of the tub. A sud tried to run down Root's forehead, but Shaw stopped it with her pinky finger. There was a small smile on Root's lips and Shaw hoped that this bath would make her feel better. She deserved a break after the stress of the last few months.

Moving back, Shaw gently tugged on Root's shoulders and she let Shaw pull her down to the water. Her eyes looked up at Shaw as she brushed the soap out of her hair. The water grew cloudy around them and Shaw bent forward to press an upside down kiss to Root's lips. All her senses were filled with the warm, floral smell, and she imagined that Root tasted like a flower, too.

Lifting her head, her eyes landed on Root's breasts, almost covered by the soapy water. She reached out, brushing her hands over wet skin, and ran her thumbs over small, pink nipples. She had all of Root's body in front of her, warm and damp and willing. Root took a shivering breath and Shaw swallowed, pulling her hands away.

Sitting up again, Root picked up another bottle and Shaw obediently held her hand out. The conditioner also smelled like honeysuckle, sweet and light. Shaw was sure she'd never been this relaxed before and she knew that baths would be a weekly occurrence. Even if it meant she'd also smell like flowers, a small price to pay for being this close to Root's naked, wet body.

The conditioner made Root's hair like silk, and Shaw marveled at it as it ran between her fingers. A soft moan slipped through Root's lips as strong fingers massaged her scalp. The sound made heat pool in Shaw's stomach again and she pressed her breasts against Root's back. Her hands slipped easily out of Root's hair, running down her back and under her arms.

Root arched as Shaw's hands covered her breasts again, dropping her head back to rest on Shaw's shoulder. Soapy fingers teased Root's nipples drawing another moan from her. Taking her time, Shaw satisfied her craving for Root's breasts, dragging nails over their soft undersides and feeling their weight in her hands.

Root laid her arms on the side of the bathtub, her eyes drifting closed as Shaw touch her. Her heartbeat was hard against Shaw's hands and she breathed Shaw's name, melting back into her. Smiling, Shaw moved a hand down Root's body, stretching to reach between her legs.

She touched her slowly, fingers slipping through wetness to draw small circles. Sighing, Root's lips parted, her eyebrows drawing down as she focused on Shaw's movements. Water lapped lightly against Root's legs as Shaw disturbed it, and the rose smell grew more intense. Root's legs fell open, one knee hitting the wall.

Shaw pushed two fingers inside of her, feeling her moan vibrate through her chest. Having Root twitch and sigh in her arms, seeing her whole body blush and shiver, made Shaw feel powerful. Root whimpered into Shaw's ear, one hand flying up to grasp at Shaw's head. She tugged painfully on Shaw's short hair and Shaw's smile widened.

She remembered her first night at Reese's house, the first time she met Root. She'd walked downstairs to get a drink from the kitchen and heard Root's fake moans. They were nothing like the rhythmic panting coming from her now, hard and fast in time to Shaw's thrusts. It was Shaw's duty to make sure Root had good sex.

"Sameen," Root sighed, hand clutching at the edge of the bathtub. "I'm so close."

Pulling her fingers out, Shaw rubbed Root quickly, turning her head to press her mouth against Root's temple. Her other hand squeezed Root's breast, fingers teasing her nipple. Root came undone against her, gasping and shaking. Shaw didn't slow her fingers until Root took a deep breath, her body stilling.

Pressing a kiss to Root's temple, Shaw wrapped her arms around Root's waist. Her knees were starting to hurt from the hard porcelain of the tub, but it was worth it to be this close. Root released her hair and covered Shaw's arms with her own.

"I wasn't expecting that," Root said, her fingers slowly trailing over Shaw's hands.

"Yes, you were." Shaw laughed. "Don't pretend."

Blinking innocently, Root shrugged. "I was hoping…"

It should feel weird to be this comfortable around someone, Shaw thought, but it wasn't. Maybe that was weird. It had never been easy to just sit in a room with someone and not want to leave. Her sexual encounters were usually on a timer, and she liked it that way, but now there was no end date to this affair.

They could spend the rest of their lives together if they wanted to. Shaw could live in this apartment with Root for years. It almost felt too easy, like she should still be hiding her desire for Root, like they should be getting dressed to go their separate ways. There were no barriers now.

If Shaw was the type of person who got scared, she would be terrified by how much she didn't want to leave Root. She knew that she hadn't changed dramatically since she came to New York; she'd left Reese behind without a second thought, but the idea of never seeing Root again made her stomach twist into knots. It was dangerous to care about someone, but she did care about Root.

"I'm sorry, but I think I'm too tired to touch you." Root shifted so she could look at Shaw. "Are you upset?"

"No," Shaw answered. She gave Root a small smile and a kiss on the forehead, avoiding her bruise. "You'll just owe me one."

Root grinned. "That's fine! It's a good debt to have."

"Come on." Shaw took her hands away, nodding for Root to let her move backward. "Let's rinse your hair and do a quick scrub."

They finished the bath quickly, the water cool when they climbed out. Shaw realized that she hadn't cleaned herself at all. It didn't matter; she'd just take a quick shower in the morning. Accepting a towel from Root, she thought about the comments she would get at work the next day when she came in smelling like roses. It was the next best thing to letting Root drive her.

Towelling herself dry, Shaw watched as Root did the same, eyes struggling to stay open. There would come a point when Shaw needed time alone. Even though it was easy to spend time with Root, Shaw didn't have the energy to always exist with someone else. She hoped that Root would be understanding if she asked to go to the bar alone or wanted to spend time with friends.

Root held her hand out for the towel and Shaw gave it to her. She hung them on a metal rod beside the tub and offered Shaw a hand. Taking it, she let Root lead her to the bedroom, switching off the bathroom light as they walked out.

None of her things had been put away and she would definitely be wearing a wrinkled shirt to work. She couldn't bring herself to care. Between the late hour and the hot bath, she was close to falling asleep on her feet, too. Root started for the dresser and hesitated.

Dropping Shaw's hands, she turned around to face her. "Do you need pajamas? Or could we sleep naked?"

Shaw raised her eyebrows. "I'm fine with sleeping naked, if you are. You don't usually like that, right?"

"I don't want to be confined right now," she answered. "You can hold me, but nothing else."

"I appreciate that."

Moving to the bed, Shaw pulled back the covers. The bed was giant, larger than any one Shaw had slept in. The first time she'd slept over, it had felt like there was an ocean of space between them until they had closed the gap. Now, she climbed in and moves right to the middle, ready to fall asleep tangled in Root.

Root got in from the other side, cozying right up to Shaw. She rested her head on Shaw's chest, their legs fitting together, and Shaw held her close. She felt protective of Root, like her embrace would keep everything else away from her. Root's hand covered Shaw's waist.

"Is this…" Root took an unsteady breath, her eyes closing. "Are you really ok with moving in? With John knowing? With making this a real relationship?"

"Root," Shaw mumbled as sleep tried to take her over, "yes. Stop worrying about me. I don't do anything unless I want to. I'll let you know when I'm unhappy."

Root nodded against her chest, snuggling closer. "Ok, Sameen. Goodnight. I… I like you a lot."

"I like you, too, Root." She let herself relax into the bed and drift off. "Goodnight."


	22. Illegal

Root laughed as Joss rolled her eyes and shifted on the bench to lean against the back wall. They were at the Black Cherry, celebrating the end of the week. She was sitting with Joss, debating about broadway musicals, while Sameen and Lionel sat across from them talking quietly. Root crossed her legs in front of her, thankful for the flexibility her pants gave her.

It had been an amazing week. In the three days since Sameen had moved in with her, Root had grown used to the change. It was so easy to spend time with their friends, or just alone together, and every morning, Root woke up tangled in Sameen despite the large bed. The relationship was somehow exciting and steady all at once.

It was Friday night now, and Root was happy that Sameen would be home all weekend. As much as she wanted to invite their friends over and make her apartment, their apartment, a place for the group to have a good time, she mostly wanted to lay in bed for days with Sameen, work on a project together, go out for lunch and make dinner together. Everything she had expected her relationship with John to be was now possible with Sameen.

She shook her head, pulling herself back to the present and smiled at Joss. "You wouldn't even go to watch Julie Andrews? I'd watch a million shows if she was the lead actress."

"I'm not interested in 'poor girl makes good' stories," Joss answered. "You make a good point, though."

They laughed and Root picked up her glass of beer, taking a sip. She was glad that Joss was finally taking a liking to her. These were her friends now, too, and drinking in a bar and talking about musicals was much preferable to stuffy dinner parties where she was just ignored. She hoped that one day she stopped comparing everything to the past, but right now, it was her only reference point and she liked to think about how happy her new life made her.

Joss took a drink, too, and looked across the booth to Sameen and Lionel. "What are you two talking about?"

Sameen glanced at Root, smiling, before turning to Joss. "I'm getting a promotion."

"A promotion?" Root echoed, grinning. "Out of the warehouse?"

"I finally convinced the higher-ups to let Shaw on the floor," Lionel said, playing with his can of Coke. "They normally want a person in the warehouse for at least six months, but I told them how skilled Shortstacks is and they made an exception."

Narrowing her eyes, Shaw glared at him. "I'll let the nickname slide because I'm grateful, but you're only going to get so many."

"Well," he snorted, "I better save them, then."

Root slid her beer across the table to Shaw, watching as she took a large gulp, finishing the glass. She shook it, making the last bit of foam swirl at the bottom, and climbed out of the booth, pushing her way through the Friday night crowd to the bar. Root watched as she disappeared between taller people and rested her arm on the table, looking at Lionel.

"That was really nice of you," she told him. "She's probably ecstatic."

"Probably," Lionel joked, grinning. "In her own, weirdass way."

Chuckling, Root nodded. Joss laid a hand on her arm, brushing her thumb over Root's bare wrist. Turning to her, Root pulled her arm away. It was still a lot to be so uncovered, and she wasn't sure she wanted anyone but Sameen touching her with that much familiarity.

Joss didn't seem offended. "How's it going with Shaw? I've noticed how good she smells now and I thank you."

Root laughed, pushing her hair from her face. "She complains, but I know she likes the rose soap. I think she likes smelling like me. If that's not too arrogant to say."

"It's definitely the truth!" Lionel grinned. "If she really hated it, she wouldn't constantly tell us that it was your soap and how she's bathing with you now."

Her cheeks warmed, and Root felt her heart warm, too. Even though she knew Sameen was happy with her, it was nice to know she was saying it out loud. Maybe she'd buy Sameen some hand lotion that smelled like roses. She'd be working on the line now and probably needed something to keep her hands healthy.

"Other than the regular bathing," Joss cut in, "is it going well? I'm sure it's a big change. It still seems impossible that she's moved in with a girlfriend."

Sameen had told them that they were girlfriends. The knowledge made Root's heart beat faster. She hadn't thought Sameen would tell anyone about their new title, but she was learning now that she did. It might just be with Lionel and Joss, but still. To know Sameen felt confident enough in their relationship to tell people, that she wanted to share details, made Root so happy.

"It's going great," Root answered, unable to stop a grin from spreading across her face. "She makes breakfast every morning and helps me with dinner in the evening. I think we've talked for hours every night. It's just… It feels like having a best friend, but even more than that. I think… Well, I think I could fall in love with her."

Joss sighed happily, her eyes sparkling. "That sounds fantastic. Honestly, that's the dream."

"I think she likes you a lot," Lionel offered. "I mean, she talks about you so much, it's getting annoying. Oh, she acts like she's complaining, but she's not. It's so weird."

Just then, Sameen appeared at the end of the table with two beers. "I got you your own beer. You keep letting me share, but you should have a whole glass for yourself. You're too nice. It's dumb."

Joss, Lionel, and Root laughed, making Sameen frown. She just dropped down into the booth and handed Root her glass. Taking it, Root winked at her, exaggerating the motion, and took a deep drink. Over the rim of the glass, she saw Sameen watching her with dark eyes.

"We're having a make-up game next week," Joss told the group. She smiled at Root. "You in?"

Shaking her head, Root put her glass down, swallowed her mouthful of beer, and held her hands up defensively. "No, thank you. I'll just watch."

"Probably for the best."

Shaw kicked Root under the table, snorting. "Your bruise is still fading from the last game. Maybe you should stay away altogether."

"And miss seeing my girl all dressed up in gear?" Root gasped. "I wouldn't miss it for the world!"

Lionel and Joss snickered at Shaw's annoyed glower. It was just a joke and Root just wrinkled her nose in response. She couldn't stop thinking about how easy everything was. She knew that on Monday she'd have to return to work and deal with Harold, but it didn't seem so scary anymore.

He wasn't as important to her as he used to be, and Root had some power over him, too. She was his best engineer and she knew his secret. If he tried anything, she'd let him know she had no qualms about telling everyone and quitting on the spot. Her relationship and friendships made her feel bolder.

She remembered Zoe and sighed. There was no way around telling her what had happened, if she didn't already know. Zoe would ask questions, express her disapproval, and probably give Root the cold shoulder. But she wasn't Root's only friend anymore, and Root would survive with her.

"What was that for?" Lionel asked.

Root frowned, picking up her glass. "What?"

"The forlorn sigh," he answered, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead like a swooning lady. "Why so sad?"

Reaching across the table with her free hand, Root pushed his shoulder lightly, smiling. "I'm not sad, dummy." She took a drink and leaned back against the wall again. "Just thinking about going back to work."

Shaw gave her a knowing look. "Need me to rough them up for you?"

"I'll help!" Joss cheered, lifting her glass and clinking it against Shaw's. "I love taking rich folk down a peg."

Root took several large gulps and set her glass down. "It's tempting," she joked, "but I can take care of myself. I just have to face them head on. Zoe will be so scandalized to see me wearing pants."

Joss snorted. "She's not as uptight as you think. A woman who is involved with the Italian mob isn't going to care that you're wearing pants. She might dislike you wearing them at work, but she won't be 'scandalized'."

"The mob?" Root repeated, shocked. "Zoe?"

"She takes money for them." Joss looked around the table. "You knew this, right?"

"We did," Shaw confirmed, dropping her chin into her hand. "I didn't know it was for the mob, though. Makes sense."

"'Makes sense'?" Root repeated again, still surprised. "I thought it was for… I don't know. I guess I didn't think too hard about it."

Lionel smirked. "It's not a big deal. My bosses pay protection money, too. They used to get robbed all the time before that."

Root blinked. She supposed it wasn't too weird. There had been a gang in Bishop who did the same thing, but it seemed more sinister to know that the mob was controlling the city. She'd lived there for almost two decades now and never knew how powerful they were. Of course, she hadn't been mingling with people who mingled with the mob.

"Huh," she said, shrugging. "I guess I just never thought about it before."

"You're one of the common folk now." Joss winked to let Root know she was kidding. "Finish your beer."

Root gave her a mock salute and chugged the last of her glass. The alcohol was definitely starting to affect her. It didn't matter if she got drunk. Shaw would make sure she got home safely and tuck her into bed. Maybe, if she did get drunk, Shaw would bathe her again.

A phone rang from behind the bar and Root watched Harper grin at someone before turning away. Shaw knocked her fists on the table and stood from the booth. She pushed herself onto her toes and looked toward the bathroom.

"Alright, I'm going to the ladies'."

She vanished into the crowd. Root finished the last of her drink and pushed the glass away. She was tired and they were planning to take a trip upstate over the weekend and spend a few days out of the city. They should go home, pack, and sleep early. It would be a long drive.

"I think we'll call it a night soon," Root told the others. "Things to do."

Lionel smirked at her. "Thank you for going home and not hogging the bathroom again."

"My pleasure," Root teased, smiling.

A loud clang made her look toward the bar and a second later, a flashing red light filled the room. Chaos erupted around them, people running in every direction. Joss and Lionel hopped out of the booth, gesturing sharply for Root to follow.

"It's a raid," Joss shouted over the noise of the crowd. "We have to go!"

Root's heart started pounding at the idea of getting arrested. She hadn't gotten in trouble like that since she was young and she didn't know how the police would treat homosexual prisoners. The reality of the situation, and all the warnings she'd received, suddenly came crashing down around her.

She tried to follow Joss and Lionel toward the front door, but a sharp elbow knocked her aside. The red flashes made it hard to focus on anything and the rush of the crowd in the small bar pushed her in the opposite direction. Deciding that getting outside in any direction was better than being arrested, she went with the flow toward the back door.

The bar's panic was infectious and she couldn't keep herself calm. They passed the bathroom, and she realized Shaw was probably still inside. Needing to make sure she was safe, Root started trying to fight against the crowd again, but she wasn't strong enough and she was pushed through the back door into the alley behind the bar.

The warm, June air made her start sweating immediately. She tried to take deep breaths and look around for somewhere to go. The others from the bar started running past her, toward the street. Before she could chase after them, a strong hand wrapped around her arm.

Turning towards it, she saw a grim looking police officer holding her in place. He started dragging her toward a police truck where several other people were already inside and handcuffed. She tugged against his grip, trying to walk backwards away from the truck. Going to jail wasn't on her list of ways to recapture her childhood.

The officer yanked her forward, making her stumble and almost fall. She glared at him, pulling her arm away with more force as she got her feet back under her. He just tossed her forward toward the truck and stood right behind her so she couldn't make a run for it. She sighed and begrudgingly accepted her fate.

Climbing into the back of the wagon, she counted the other people and saw no one she recognized. Part of her was relieved that Shaw wasn't among them, but another, larger, part wished that Shaw was there to comfort her.

The officer held out handcuffs and Root held out her hands. Once she was cuffed, the officer closed the doors. The car was quiet and Root stared down at the shiny metal around her wrists. She'd traded lace gloves for a different kind of ornament.

"You're new," a woman's voice said as the car began to move.

Root looked at the person in front of her and saw a dark-haired woman smiling at her. Root gave her a weak smile in return. "I am."

"Kara." She held out a hand. "Welcome to the real party."

Root shook her hand. "Thanks. I'm Root."

Kara raised an eyebrow and sat back against the wall of the police wagon. "Nice name. This your first time getting arrested? You look pretty nervous."

"No," Root answered, lifting both her hands to push her hair behind her ear. "It's been a while, though. It's my first time as a…" She trailed off, eyes dropping to the floor.

Kara snorted. "It's not too bad. Just punch them if they try anything. You have someone to call?"

Opening her mouth to answer, Root couldn't think of what to say. She would have called Shaw, but she didn't know if Shaw had made it out. She didn't know Joss' or Lionel's number. Maybe she could have called John, if this had happened a week ago, or even Harold, but now? There was no way.

"It doesn't matter," Root mumbled.

Kara gave her a knowing look, and leaned forward. "My advice? Get someone you can call next time. Oh, and carry enough cash for bail."

They spent the rest of the drive in silence. It gave Root enough time to think about what she was going to do after this. If homosexuals were treated this badly in the big city, what would it be like on the road? In more rural places? Would she and Shaw just be running from the law forever? What kind of life would that be?

She licked her lips, turning her hands over and looking at her palms. It would be worth it. There was no way she could live a boring life in the city with a man, and she didn't like being alone. Even if she and Shaw separated, Root would want friends she could confide in, who knew her for who she truly was. It wouldn't be so bad being a criminal if she was happy and living authentically.

Root smiled at the thought of a criminal life. She was at the forefront of her field. It wouldn't be hard to find someone below board who would hire her for her knowledge. She could probably make a good living building contraband or selling her services. The thought of her as a career criminal was almost laughable, but it wasn't impossible.

She tried to think what Shaw would do if Root told her she was turning to the criminal life instead of corporate or government work. Shaw would probably joke about how Root couldn't live a low budget life, or she would jump at the chance to be Root's muscle and get in fights. They could be a modern Bonnie and Clyde.

The truck stopped and Root looked up, surprised. She'd been so lost in thought that she didn't know how long they'd been driving. A door slammed and Root waited as the driver came back around to the front of the truck. The two doors opened and Root squinted at the light.

The police officer that had put her in the truck stood there now, with a woman beside him. She wore the police woman's uniform, her arms crossed. Nodding, she signaled to the man to get them out of the truck. Root started to stand, but the woman held up a hand.

"Not you."

Slowly sitting again, Root looked around as all the others left the truck. Kara gave her one last pitying look before leaving her behind. When the truck was empty, and only Root sat in the large wagon, the woman nodded again and the police man shut the doors.

Suddenly alone in the dark wagon, Root felt afraid. She couldn't think of any reason she wouldn't be taken into the police station to be arrested. Unless there was something more sinister happening and she'd been chosen by that woman to be used for some purpose. Thoughts swirled in her head as the car drove away.

She wished she had someone to call for help. There might not be a phone where she was going even if she'd had someone on her side. Root tugged on her handcuffs restlessly. This was the consequence for leaving her stable life.

That didn't mean she had to accept it. If they expected her to go easily, they were in for a surprise. Root felt herself get angry, the indignation and rage that had filled her as a child came easily now and she felt wild and aggressive. She remembered her old bar fights, the injuries she'd gotten from older men who had ill intentions for young girls, and the strength of mind she'd had to survive in Bishop.

The car started to slow, and Root stood from her seat, crouching down in the center of the truck. When the door opened, she'd be ready. She would push past whoever stood there and run. If they got their hands on her, she wouldn't be strong enough to free herself, but she could put up a good fight. She had long limbs and sharp nails and that might save her now.

The slam of a door alert her and she took a deep breath, steadying herself. She heard the door handle turning and grit her teeth. When the door opened, she leapt forward into the light.

"Root!"

A voice she recognized made her hesitate and strong hands wrapped around her. She blinked in the light and saw Zoe standing in front of her, looking shocked. Twisting, Root saw the woman from the police station holding her, also looking surprised. She shrugged her arms, making the woman drop her arms.

"What's going on?" Root demanded, looking around. "Where are we?"

They stood in front of a restaurant that Root recognized. It was the same place Zoe had taken her for their first dinner together, where she'd ordered wine from her father's stock. She frowned and turned to Zoe.

"Tell me what's happening."

Zoe's face shifted and she looked impressed. "Well, I wasn't expecting you to put up such a fight. You've certainly grown."

Root took a step toward her. A hand landed on her arm and she stopped, pulling it away from the woman again. If this woman didn't stop touching her, Root would take Kara's advice and punch her.

"This is Dani Silva," Zoe said, gesturing to Root's cuffs. Dani reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out a small silver key. "She's a friend of mine in the force. I asked her to help bring you here."

Root watched carefully as Dani unlocked her handcuffs. She pulled her hands away and rubbed her wrists. "That doesn't answer my question."

Tossing her hair over her shoulder, Zoe smiled at Root. "Do you remember you owe me a request? For that first dinner. I'm calling in that favor."

"Ok…" Root still felt suspicious, but knowing Zoe was here made her feel a little bit better. Zoe was obviously untrustworthy, but she'd never caused Root harm. She'd always gave her what she thought was the best advice. "What's the favor?"

"I need you to meet with a man, and listen to what he has to say."

Root shifted. "That's it?"

"Let's talk inside." Zoe moved to the door of the restaurant and waited for the door to open. A well-dressed man held it open for them. "Thank you, Jacques."

They stepped inside and Root looked around the small restaurant. It was empty, despite it being dinner time on a Friday night. Only someone with real power could make a fancy restaurant like this close on one of their most profitable nights. She swallowed, running her hands down the front of her blouse.

Following Zoe to the back corner, Root noticed a middle-aged man sitting at the same table they had. He was bald, with a pair of small glasses. There was nothing impressive about him, but the way he just calmly ate his steak made Root nervous. Beside him, an intimidating looking man sat, his eyes fixed on Root. A scar ran down one cheek.

Zoe stopped in front of the table and waited for Jacques to pull out the chair. He did, and she sat down delicately, unaffected by the tense atmosphere in the room. Root decided that she would mimic her, and smoothed her face into a calm smile. She sat when Jacques pulled out her chair, dropping her hands into her lap.

"Hello," the bald man said, finally looking up at her. "Root, is it? Nice to meet you."

Fluttering her eyelashes, Root sat back in her chair, nodding. "It's nice to meet you, too…"

He smiled, cutting another piece of steak. "Elias. Zoe has told me a lot about you."

"Good things I hope."

Elias gave her a considering look as he ate his steak slowly. The entire restaurant was silent around them. Root looked at Zoe, who was staring across the table at the man with the scar. She thought about what her friends had said, that Zoe was involved with the mob, and her stomach sank.

"No need to look so worried," Elias told her, smiling again. It didn't reach his eyes. "I just want to talk."

"About what?" Root pushed her hair behind her ear. "I can't imagine what we have in common."

The others around the table chuckled. Elias gestured vaguely and two wine glasses appeared on the table in front of Zoe and Root. The waiter who had helped them the last time they were there poured wine for them. Root waited until Zoe had taken a sip before taking one of her own.

"How long have you been in the city, Root?"

Swallowing, Root put her glass down. "Almost twenty years. Since I was 18."

He nodded, lips pursed. "Impressive."

"And you?" she asked. If he was going to learn about her, then she could learn something, too.

"I was born here," he answered, cutting another piece of steak. "I'm a true blue New Yorker. Enough about me. How do you like the city?"

Root licked her lips. This whole situation was incredibly unnerving and she really wished that Shaw was with her. "It's nice. A little too loud for my tastes. I'm thinking of leaving soon."

"Oh?" He chewed his steak like he had all the time in the world. He reached for his glass of wine and took a small sip. "Most people love the noise. The lights, too. Where are you from?"

She glanced at Zoe, who smiled encouragingly. "Texas. A small town. You wouldn't have heard of it."

"That's probably true," he chuckled. Sitting back in his seat, tossed his napkin onto the table. "I've heard really good things about you, Root. I would have regretted it if you'd left the city before we could meet. Especially now that I see how beautiful you are."

Flushing, she picked up her glass of wine. "Sorry to disappoint, but I'm taken. I'm sure Zoe told you."

Elias just smiled at her, looking calm and dangerous. "She did." He rubbed a hand over his mouth, eyes narrowing. "Tell me about your job. You work with computers? With the Department of Defense?"

"Do you want a recommendation?" Root joked, forcing herself to relax. If the mob wanted to do something to her, then they would regardless of her attitude. If she stayed calm, she might be able to talk her way out of this weird situation. She took a sip of her wine as Elias smirked at her. "I'm a Systems Programmer. I'm working on creating a way to connect computers across long distances."

He seemed impressed. Reaching for a glass of wine, he toasted her. "A big job for a woman. Congratulations. You said you're connecting to the Department of Defense?"

The repetition made Root frown. "I'm not sure what you want me to say," she sighed. "Can you just tell me what you want from me?"

"I'm not used to my company being so direct," he admitted, mouth turned up in a half-smile. "I have to say I like it."

Zoe finally spoke. "I'll remember you said that."

He laughed at her and wagged his finger. "Cheeky. To answer your question, Root, I want to hire you to do something for me."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, her mouth dropping open. "You want my help? What could I possibly help you with?"

"This connection you're building… Is it only a two way connection? Or can it have multiple access points?"

His request became apparent to her, and she had to hold back a gasp. Elias wanted her to create a backdoor into the Department of Defense's computer. It was definitely possible. She'd just have to make him an acoustic coupler when Thornhill developed the technology. The question was whether or not she wanted to give a mob boss that access. If the connection was found…

She realized that it would be traced back to Harold. He would be the one who got in trouble with the government. A part of her wanted to agree just to create the possibility that Harold would have to deal with the consequences. However, if he got caught for her crimes, it would come out that he was a homosexual and he'd probably lose his companies. John would be outed as well. As angry as she was at them, she wouldn't turn on another homosexual like that. She put her glass down and crossed her arms, eyes narrowing.

"It's possible."

He grinned. "That's good to know. How long would it take?"

"Well," she sighed, "we're still working on the technology. It could be a few weeks, or even months before it all comes together. Once that's done… I should be able to get you a line. What do you need it for?"

"Don't worry about that," he said, waving a lazy hand. "Better that you don't know. Now, are you willing to work with us?"

From what she knew of the mob, she would guess that this wasn't the kind of request she could say no to, but did she really want to become a criminal? A federal criminal? She remembered the rush she got when she'd first stepped into the Black Cherry, when she'd tried on her lacy black underwear in the store, when she'd let herself get angry in the back of the police wagon. There was something about breaking the rules, thinking about what she wanted instead of what someone else wanted, about being wild that made her feel alive.

If Elias paid well, then she would have even more money to take on their trip. Sameen would be glad for that. It would be nice to get some payback for Harold's treatment of her, and she knew she could cover her trail well enough to hide the extra connection. This could be a way of proving to herself that she wasn't just somebody's girlfriend or daughter. She was her own person and she could handle something as dangerous as this.

"I can tell by your silence," Elias said, interrupting her thoughts, "that you're nervous. I'll tell you what your options are." He waited for her to nod. "You can either take the money, which is two thousand dollars, by the way, or I let you go."

Root was surprised that he would just let her go like that. There was probably a catch that she couldn't see. $2000 was a lot of money, though. She and Sameen could buy a house wherever they ended up, or a car, or ten cars. She found herself wanting to take the job, wanting to prove that she really had grown. Wasn't she already a criminal for being a homosexual? This was just a crime that paid well.

She would have Sameen on her side, if any danger came, and they were planning on skipping town anyway. Elias clearly knew, via Zoe, that Root was the only one who could do this. She had some safety in that. They couldn't kill her at least.

She nodded, a smile spreading across her face. "Alright. I'll take the money. How do I let you know when it's done?"

"I'll know," Zoe answered her. She looked slightly worried, her eyebrows drawn down. "I'll be with you the whole time."

Her tone was meant to be comforting, but Root didn't trust Zoe enough to find comfort in her presence. Instead, she just drank her wine and turned back to Elias. His smile met his eyes now, and he seemed genuinely pleased by her answer. He reached a hand across the table and she took it.

"Glad to have you aboard, Root." He nodded to someone behind her. "Until next time."

A presence at her back made Root look over her shoulder and she saw that Jacques was there, his hands on her chair. She stood, letting him pull it out. He moved to Zoe and helped her stand as well. Zoe led the way back to the door and out into the street. When the door was closed, and they were alone together, Zoe turned to her.

"I'm sorry about this, Root," she sighed, crossing her arms. "I wouldn't have brought you into it if I had another choice. Good girls like you shouldn't get involved with men like this."

Root pushed her hands into her pockets. "You're not a good girl?"

Zoe laughed. "No. I'm not." She took a deep breath. "Well, I suppose there's no going back now. Just do the job, get paid, and hopefully they won't ask for more. I don't really think they'd send you to Ridgestone."

"Ok," Root said, shrugging. She didn't know where Ridgestone was, but it didn't really matter. "We're leaving soon anyway. I guess we just have a date now. Whenever this is done, we'll go. " She frowned. "I should find Sameen."

"That's a good idea." Zoe gave her one last pitying look and then stepped up to the curb. She whistled and, a second later, a taxi appeared in front of them. She smiled at Root. "Let me give you a ride."

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Root stepped out of the taxi and flashed Zoe a smile before closing the door. Stepping backward, she watched as the car pulled away from the curb and drove away, merging seamlessly into traffic. It was late now, probably almost midnight, but Root wasn't tired. She stood on the sidewalk in front of her apartment building, looking around at the city around her.

It was different somehow, a little more mysterious and a little more exciting. She wondered who else had dark secrets lurking beneath their normal appearance. Her first day out in the world as an official pants-wearer and she'd ended up involved in the mob. Just a week ago she'd still had a boyfriend.

Sticking her hands into her pocket, she took a deep breath. She wondered where Sameen was, if she'd gotten arrested. Root really needed to look for her. The car ride back with Zoe had been tense and silent. Root had asked where Sameen was, but Zoe claimed she didn't know. That had definitely been a lie. She should go inside and start calling police precincts. She'd call Joss first, just in case.

She turned to go inside when she heard someone shout her name. Spinning around, she saw Sameen racing toward her down the sidewalk. A wave of relief came over Root and she slumped, suddenly tired. The reality of the night suddenly felt like a rock in her stomach.

"Root," Sameen gasped, stopping in front of her. She ran her hands over Root, checking her arms and face for signs of injury. "What happened? I've been looking for you everywhere."

Chuckling, Root wrapped her arms around Sameen's shoulders, hugging her close. Strong arms held her waist and they just stood like together for a moment. Now that Sameen was with her again, Root just wanted to crawl into bed and fall asleep in her arms. They would spend the weekend in the apartment, she decided, ignoring the outside world.

Eventually, Sameen pushed her away and squinted up at her. "Did you get arrested? I checked the precinct, but you weren't there."

"No," Root answered, shaking her head. "Zoe had the police take me somewhere else. She had someone on the inside."

Sameen rolled her eyes. "Of course she did. Where did they take you?"

"Let's go inside."

Root pulled Sameen into the building and up the narrow stairs to the elevator. As they waited for the elevator, she thought about the best way to explain what had happened. Should she just say 'I work for the mob now?' or was that too on the nose? Maybe she could explain that she'd taken a side job and it just happened to be for the mob.

Sameen leaned against the wall and ran her eyes over Root. "Are you tired?" she asked, eyes dark as they met Root's.

"Exhausted," Root answered. She faked a yawn, keeping her eyes on Sameen. An annoyed furrow appeared between her eyes and Root grinned, raising an eyebrow. "Did the excitement get you… excited?"

"Shut up," Sameen mumbled. The elevator arrived and she gestured inside. "Go on."

Root blew her a kiss as she passed by. She pressed the button for her floor and turned to face Sameen, who was pretending to look at her nails. Before they started anything, Root needed to tell Sameen what had happened. Then, they could celebrate the extra money and decide when to leave.

They arrived on Root's floor and she pulled her keys from her pocket, leading the way. Knowing that Sameen was watching her walk, she put an extra sway in her hips. Behind her, Sameen snorted.

It didn't take them long to get inside and take their shoes off. Sameen started for the bedroom, but Root went into the living room instead, sitting on the couch. Shrugging, Sameen followed her and dropped down onto the sofa beside her.

"I should tell you where I was," Root said, giving her a small smile. "Tell me where you were first."

Sameen gave her a puzzled look, but started talking. "I ended up at Carter's apartment with her and Lionel. They forced me to stay there, doing everything short of tying me down, but I got out eventually and started looking for you."

It made Root happy that Sameen had looked for her, breaking out of Carter's apartment and running through the city. She couldn't think of anyone else in her life that would have done that for her. With her new criminal life, having someone like Sameen on her side was invaluable.

"I had an...unexpected experience."

Sameen narrowed her eyes. "Did someone hurt you?"

"No," Root assured her, reaching out to pat her knee. "I'm fine. Well. No, I'm fine."

"Ok, what happened?" Sameen sat up, resting her forearms on her knees. "Where were you?"

Root licked her lips. "I was with Zoe. She took me to meet Elias, um, a mob...member? I'm not sure if he's a 'boss,' but he was clearly powerful."

Sameen's whole body stilled, her knuckles turning white as she clenched her fists. She vibrated with rage and Root was tempted to move away, but she stayed where she was. She'd expected surprise, not anger.

"Don't worry," Root tried. "They didn't do anything. They just wanted me to do a job. They're paying me $2000!"

"I'm going to kill Zoe," Sameen spat through clenched teeth. "That smug little bitch." She looked at Root. "Don't worry. I'll get you out of this."

Frowning, Root shook her head. "I don't want to get out of it. I'm going to do it and we can use the money for our trip."

Sameen ran a hand over her hair in frustration. "Root, no. You don't know what you're getting into. These people aren't going to let you leave. They're just going to ruin you."

"I'm not a child, Sameen. I know the risks. I can handle myself."

"You've met one mob boss and you think you know everything?" Sameen scoffed. "Root, these aren't catty secretaries. They're dangerous."

Root stood up, getting angry at Sameen's dismissive tone. "I thought you'd support my choice. I can do this. I might not have your worldly experience, but I'm smart and I know how to handle myself."

"Do you?" Sameen snapped, jumping to her feet. "You didn't know enough to stay with your friends during a bar raid. You didn't know enough to stay out of mob business. You really think you know enough to stay safe?"

"It's just some computer work," Root said defensively. "I won't even be in danger. I just have to do it and tell Zoe when it's done. I didn't think you'd be so upset. Don't you want the money?"

Sameen threw her hands in the air. "I don't want the money if it means you get killed in a mob hit." She closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You know what. This is my fault. I knew that getting involved with you was a bad idea."

Ice rushed through Root's veins. "What?"

"You're a good girl and I should have known you'd end up in trouble." She ran a hand over her hair. "I might as well have brought you to the mob myself."

"I really dislike being called a 'good girl'. I'm a real person." Root clenched her fists. "Do you still think I'm just some rich girl slumming with the homosexuals? I gave up my whole life for you. This isn't a game! Is it a game for you? Is this some weird power trip? Making a 'good girl' fall in love with you and then leaving?"

Sameen sucked in a sharp breath at Root's final question, her eyes widening. Realizing what she'd said, Root flushed, but she refused to back down. She'd said she loved Sameen. Maybe she did. That didn't mean she was going to take her insults. She'd left an important relationship before. She could do it again.

"It's not a game," Sameen said quietly.

Root put her hands on Sameen's shoulders. "I need you to trust me on this, Sameen. I'm an adult. I can handle this."

"No, you can't!" Shaw pushed her hands away, huffing. "If you want to get involved with the mob, fine, but don't expect me to visit you in Ridgestone."

"What is Ridgestone?" Root snapped. "Zoe mentioned it, too. That Elias might send me there. Is it some euphemism for killing me?"

Sameen clicked her tongue and looked away. "I'll talk to Zoe and force her to get you out of this. She should know better."

"Enough!" Root threw her arm out, pointing toward the door. "Get out."

"What?" Shaw asked, tensing.

Root's lower lip began to tremble despite herself. She had been almost excited to do this job for Elias, but Shaw was ruining it. Maybe Root wasn't as experienced with crime as Shaw, but she was in charge of her own life and Shaw had no right to treat her like a child.

"Go," Root said, standing strong. "Come back when you can deal with me like a grown woman. You're my girlfriend, not my mother."

Nodding, Shaw pursed her lips, eyes tight with anger. "Ok. Fine. I'll leave. You want me to treat you like an adult? Fine. Handle this on your own. Don't come crying to me when it all goes south."

She pushed past Root and headed down the hallway to the bedroom. Root stood frozen in place, her heart racing. Sameen had sounded so final. This was supposed to be a short break, just Sameen taking the time to get over her anger, but now Root worried she'd made a big mistake.

Shaking herself, Root quickly walked to the bedroom and watched from the doorway as Sameen pulled her clothing from her drawer and stuffed it into her duffelbag. The anger was gone from her face, but nothing had replaced it. Root moved into the room.

"Why are you packing?" she asked, frustrated. "Do you really think it'll take that long to respect me?"

Zipping her bag shut, Sameen picked it up and turned to face Root. "I already respect you, Root. It's just- You should have talked to me first. It was so rash. You're not the only one who's affected by your decisions. I'm not Reese; I care-" She scoffed, shaking her head. "Forget it. If you want to make stupid decisions, then fine. I'm not your mother, right?"

Stomping across the room, she slipped by Root into the hallway. Root followed her, not sure what to say to make her stay, or even if she should say anything at all. Sameen dropped her bag for a moment to put her shoes on. Picking her bag up again, she unlocked the door and yanked it open.

"Wait," Root gasped. "Is this- Are we done? Is this just a fight? Where are you going?"

Sameen hesitated, her grip white around the door handle. She stared out into the hallway, face neutral. Root's stomach sank at the unreadable expression. It was like they were right back where they started, like they didn't know each other again, like they meant nothing to each other.

"I don't know," Sameen said softly. "Maybe I really am bad at relationships. Sorry."

The door closed behind her with a quiet click and Root was left alone in her apartment. She didn't know how to feel. Without Sameen, the prospect of working with the mob was a lot more frightening. If she wasn't with Sameen, could she still go to the Black Cherry? Were Joss and Lionel still her friends? Was she right back where she was before she'd met John?

No. Even if she didn't have friends, she was still being true to herself. Root turned and headed for her bedroom. It was better to be alone as herself than in a relationship as a lie. She wouldn't ever go back to the meek, nervous girl she used to be.

Maybe it would do her good to be single for a little bit. It had been so long since she'd had to face herself. She would focus on her work, for both Harold and Elias, and then she would leave the city. She'd use the money to buy herself a car. Stopping beside her bed, she undressed, finally tired from the long night.

It didn't feel like Sameen had broken up with her. She might be in shock. She was half-convinced that she'd wake up with Sameen beside her. Root would apologize for telling her to go and Shaw would apologize for not supporting her. Root climbed into bed, settling onto her side and pulling the blanket over her. Closing her eyes, she pictured Sameen's face just before they'd kissed for the first time.

Her skin had been eerie in the blue light of the pool, her hair was a little too long, curls flopping over her forehead. Her dark eyes had been wide as she looked up at Root, like she couldn't believe it was happening, like she was the luckiest person in the world. Closing her eyes, Root remembered how soft Sameen's lips had been against hers, how clumsy her fingers had been on Root's complicated underwear, how Sameen had asked her not to sleep with John.

Her breath caught in her throat as tears welled up in her eyes. She knew that despite Shaw's limitations, she loved her, too. She loved Root so much that she was furious. The thought hurt. She'd finally managed to find someone who loved her, and she'd chased her away. Root knew that, eventually, she'd be ok, but right now, she was devastated. Tomorrow she'd figure out the rest of her life, but right now, she let herself cry.


	23. Singing in the Dark

THE SAME NIGHT

Shaw's hands tightened around the handlebars of her bike as she sat in front of Reese's house. She'd been sitting on the bike for almost ten minutes, but she couldn't quite bring herself to go knock on his door. Sighing, she let her head droop.

It was humiliating to have to ask him for help three days after she'd taken his girlfriend from him. She'd never wanted to make anything work the way she'd wanted her relationship with Root to, but she'd still managed to mess it up. Her anger had gotten the better of her.

Root was out of her mind if she thought she could handle herself alone with the mob. Three months ago, she had never been to a dive bar and now she thought she was part of the criminal underground. Shaw had tried to talk her out of it and she wasn't going to stick around to watch Root get hurt.

Lifting her head, she climbed off the bike. She turned to untie her duffelbag before changing her mind. It wouldn't do to show up on Reese's doorstep with her bag only for him to turn her away. Maybe she could pretend she was just here to visit. At one in the morning.

She kicked her bike angrily and let the pain in her foot clear her mind. When Root had told her that she was going to work for the mob, Shaw's mind had clouded with fury. She'd never trusted Zoe and now she had a solid reason to hate her. She'd taken advantage of Root's naivety and longing to be wild. If Shaw saw her on the street, she would probably deck her.

Anger came so easily to Shaw and she had trouble letting it go. Shaw frowned. Had she been wrong to leave Root? Had she gotten too angry? Root wouldn't be safer alone. Still, if she wasn't going to let Shaw fix this, then she probably wouldn't listen to other advice. What was Shaw supposed to do? Wait until someone threatened Root's life and fight them? Keep arguing with Root until she gave in?

What if Root never gave in? Would they just fight until they hated each other? Should Shaw just have watched silently? Shaking her head, she started for Reese's house, shoving her hands into her pockets. There was no point in just sitting around until the relationship wasn't worth her time.

It was better to leave now. The relationship had been fun until now. Even the sneaking around and lying had been kind of exciting. Maybe Shaw had only been so drawn to Root because it was forbidden. She'd just wanted to turn a straight girl and corrupt a good girl. She tried to believe that.

Sighing, Shaw stopped at the bottom of the porch steps. Reese had not been her first choice. Her first choice had been Carter, or even Fusco, but she knew they'd just tell her to go back to Root and figure it out. They would probably say something like "Root is an adult and can make her own decisions. You should support her." or "You can't just leave every time you're uncomfortable with a situation." or "She'd be better off with you there."

Well, that's where they were wrong. Shaw didn't have to do anything she didn't want to. She didn't have to stay in a relationship that was all fighting and no fun, especially when she'd never wanted to be in a relationship to begin with. Even if she did want to be in a relationship with Root, she had no desire to watch her die. She wasn't going to sit around and wait for Elias to lock Root in Ridgestone to be tortured for being a dyke. Shaw would rather leave her behind and assume she was alive and well.

Looking up at Reese's front door, Shaw sighed. Had it really only been three days since they'd left here? It felt like months. Shaw hadn't thought about seeing Reese again since they'd left. They'd gone a long time apart before and she'd wanted to enjoy her new freedom with Root. Hopefully, his own freedom with Finch would make him forgiving.

Clenching her jaw at the thought of relying on charity yet again, Shaw climbed the three steps and knocked on the door. She stepped back and tried to think of something to say. What did you say to your best friend whose girl you just stole and then immediately broke up with?

She waited for a moment before knocking again. It was late and Shaw had forgotten that Reese was a homebody now. He was probably asleep. Deciding to try one more time, Shaw banged on the door with her fist.

Next door, Finch's porch light turned on. Wincing at the awkwardness of waking up Reese's lover, she turned toward the other house. The front door opened and Reese stepped out onto the porch in his pajamas. They stared at each other silently for a moment. Waving, Shaw watched as Reese disappeared back into Finch's house.

Well. There had always been the chance that Reese wouldn't help her. Rubbing a hand over her hair, Shaw jumped the three steps onto the walkway, preparing herself to deal with Carter's judgement. She was halfway down the sidewalk when Finch's door opened again and Reese stepped out.

Slowing to a stop, she waited to see what he would do. If he decided to fight her, she wouldn't hesitate to beat him. Although, she might let him get a few good shots in. It wasn't like she didn't deserve it. Even in the current circumstances, though, her pride wouldn't let her lose to him entirely.

He walked down the steps and started across the lawn toward her. She clenched her fists, shifting her weight and getting ready for a fight. Smiling, he shook his head.

"I'm not going to fight you, Shaw," he said as he reached her. "It's good to see you."

She clenched her jaw. He was being nice and she wished he would give her a reason to be mad at him, too. She wasn't sure how she would feel when her anger was gone. If she would even feel anything. "Yeah. You too."

He glanced at her bike, noticing the duffelbag still strapped there. "Where's Root?"

"Not here," she snapped. Crossing her arms, she regretted coming to him. "Whatever. Forget it."

She tried to step away, but he grabbed her arm and stopped her. "Shaw. Come inside."

"I don't need your pity."

"I'm not pitying you." He waited for her to look at him. "Chasing skirts second."

Barking a laugh, Shaw nodded, her eyebrows raising. "Wow." She smirked at him. "Mayhem boys second." Sticking a finger in his face. "I'm not doing the handshake."

He smiled fondly. "But you remember it?"

"Of course," she replied, insulted that he even had to ask. She took a deep breath, feeling a little bit better. There was a reason they'd been friends for almost thirty years. Pulling her arm out of Reese's hand, she nodded toward her bike. "Let me get my bag."

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

ONE WEEK AFTER

Root rubbed her temple with her fingers, trying to focus on what Claire was telling her. It had been a long week and she was running on fumes. After hours of looking at modulator schematics, she was ready to go home and go to sleep.

During The week that she was gone, construction had finished on the new storage room. All of her project's punchcards were stacked in well-labelled boxes against the wall and four desks had been placed beside them. Jason and Daniel were happy to have personal workspaces, but Root would classify Claire as "exuberant."

Everything Root asked her to do was done with enthusiasm and Root half-expected Claire to have a heart attack from all the added stress. Thankfully, Claire's excess of work ethic seemed to mask Root's subdued energy. Root could hand off tasks and sit at her desk, pretending to reorganize paper.

It had been an extremely hard week. Root had spent the weekend following her break-up in bed. She wanted to talk to someone about what happened, but she only wanted to talk to Sameen, or even John. Joss and Lionel might have understood, but she knew they'd probably be on Sameen's side of the argument. Not that there were sides. Root wanted to be on Sameen's side, too.

She still wasn't sure what had made Sameen pack up and leave, but if she let herself think too much about it, she would fall apart. Instead, she'd arrived at the office an hour early on Monday, ready to work. Even if Harold had come in, she wouldn't have cared. Maybe she could have channelled her frustration at her own life at him.

Instead, he'd missed their Friday morning meeting, something he'd never done before. She wanted to call him a coward, but she knew she probably would have asked for another week off work to spend time with her lover if she could have. The thought of Harold taking a celebratory trip with John just depressed her more.

Dropping her hand, she straightened up and tried to focus on the schematic in front of her. She sat on the edge of Claire's desk, her pants giving her the ability to spread her legs and balance. Even if she wasn't in a relationship or going to homosexual clubs, Root wasn't going to go back to corsets and gloves.

After work on Monday, where she wore the one pair of pants she'd owned, she'd gone to Sears and bought two weeks worth of clothing. Without Sameen there watching with her dark eyes, Root had felt free to spend as much money as she wanted to and get herself a new wardrobe. She'd bought boots and flats, blouses and button downs, and several silk ribbons to tie up her hair. She'd even gotten herself a manicure, choosing black nail polish. No more soft pink tips for her.

"It looks great," Root managed through her pounding headache. "Do you think this is your final plan?"

Claire blinked up at her, brow furrowing. "This was your plan."

"Right," she mumbled. "Sorry. My head is killing me."

"Your head's been hurting all week," Jason said from the other side of the desk. "Maybe you should go see a doctor."

She waved his concern away. "No, I'm fine. I just… haven't been sleeping well. This project is getting to me."

He looked skeptical, but he turned back to the schematic. "I think the modem has potential. We should start building one next week and see if we can print."

"We don't have anywhere to send it," Daniel pointed out.

Smiling, Root pointed to the door of the storage room. "We'll move a printer in here and see if we can get something to print wirelessly."

"That's at least 200 feet," Claire said breathlessly. "It would be a miracle."

Root patted her on the head, giving her a faux-condescending look. "We're in the business of miracles, kid. If we can't get something to print 200 feet away, how is this going to go all the way to the DoD?"

The team laughed and Root winced, pressing a hand to her head. She stood up off the desk, crossing to her own and opening the top drawer. She pulled out a bottle of Anacin and dropped a couple into her hand. Taking them dry, she turned and rested her butt on her desk.

"I'll put in a request for parts before I leave today," Daniel told her. "Zoe will make sure they're here on Monday."

Root nodded, crossing her arms. "We'll start building on Monday and hopefully be ready for a test by friday." She thought for a moment. "Go ahead and order parts for all the models we sketched out. No reason not to try it all."

He gave her a thoughtful look before heading out to the main floor. Jason stuck his hands into his pants' pockets and smiled awkwardly. When he didn't say anything, Root raised an eyebrow.

"Yes?"

He blushed. "Nothing. It's just…" He shrugged. "You seem different."

"Change happens," Root replied, trying not to let her feelings show on her face. She'd been different after Chicago, too, and she'd probably be different when this project was done. "That's life."

Claire laughed at that, resting her arms on her desk. "I like your clothes. They're very hip. I wish I could buy new clothes."

"Just wait until your first paycheck," Root answered winking. Pushing herself off the desk, she waved her hands dismissively. "Go home. Get some rest. Be ready to work on Monday."

She turned around and started gathering her papers together. Because she was the only one with a key to the storeroom, she wasn't worried about anything going missing, but she didn't want to come in on Monday with a messy desk. Something moved in the corner of her eye and she looked up to see Claire hovering beside her.

"Yes?" she asked, straightening up.

"Do you want to get a drink?" Claire asked. Catching herself, she held her hands up before Root said anything. "I know you have a… You aren't single, but I thought we could get a drink as friends. Coworkers."

The invitation flattered Root, but the pounding in her head kept her from saying yes. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "Maybe another time? I've got a headache."

Claire licked her lips, looking away nervously. "I… don't mean to be forward, but is everything ok? You aren't as cheery as you were before."

"Well," Root started, sighing, "things are different now. Not a lot to be cheery about."

"Oh." Claire shifted, still looking away. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Keep working hard," Root answered, smiling tightly. "Don't worry about me. I will be fine. If this acoustic coupler project doesn't go well…" She winked at Claire. "Just keep working hard."

Claire finally seemed to relax, grinning at Root. She gave her a mock-salute. "Yes, ma'am."

The door to the storage room opened and Zoe entered. Root's smile fell from her face and her headache grew worse. She'd managed to avoid Zoe for most of the week, hiding away in the storeroom. Zoe had no reason to be in here unless she was coming specifically to talk to Root.

"Oh," Zoe said, noticing Claire. "I'm sorry. I thought your team had left for the day."

"Claire and I were having a conversation," Root said, not hiding the annoyance in her voice. "A private conversation."

Claire looked between them nervously. "I can go."

"No." Reaching out, Root laid a hand on Claire's arm. "Stay."

She knew that Zoe wouldn't talk about anything suspicious in front of Claire. Zoe caught the obvious hint and narrowed her eyes. She put her hands on her hips.

"I was hoping to talk to you. Can I buy you dinner?"

"No, thank you," Root replied quickly. She gave Zoe the best smile she could muster. "I have plans."

Claire frowned at Root. "But you said-" She bit back a yelp as Root's hand on her arm tightened. "Right. We're getting drinks."

Zoe took a step forward. "I could come along."

"I'll be blunt," Root said, sighing, "since I know that's what you and your friends are fond of. I agreed to work with you, but that's it. Whatever friendship we had is over. Our deal cost me the… friendship of someone who was very close to me." She watched Zoe's eyebrows jump up. "So. You can understand my reluctance."

"I can," Zoe replied, sounding contrite. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. I hope that, in time, I can earn my way back into your confidence."

With a nod, she turned and left the room, closing the door behind. Root stared after her for a moment before remembering that she was still holding Claire's arm in a vice grip. Releasing her, Root smiled apologetically.

"Sorry about that. Zoe and I had a fight. I guess. Thanks for covering for me."

Claire shrugged. "No problem. I've been there."

Root watched as she moved back to her desk. Claire quickly picked her bag up and put the long strap over her head. She was still wearing out of date clothing and she could really use a haircut. Root smiled fondly, remembering how she had looked when she'd started working here.

"Claire," Root called, catching her before she left. "Hold on."

Looking at Root, Claire hesitated. "Yes?"

"I can't go get a drink, but how about something else?" Root smiled kindly, trying to make up for her shortness. "I'd like to buy you a couple new dresses as a thank you for just now, and for coming to work with me."

"Oh," Claire chuckled, blushing. "I couldn't. Really."

Picking the bottle of Anacin off her desk, Root shoved it into her pocket and stood up. "I insist. No offense, but you need some new clothes. I would have killed for this." She pulled her wallet and keys out of her drawer and put them into her other pockets. "Come on. I'll tell you about the secretaries and you can help me fight them."

With a grin, Claire jumped forward to open the door for her. "Okay!

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

TWO WEEKS AFTER

Shaw glowered at Carter over her glass of beer, scowling. "I'm not playing another softball game. I did the one. Then I did the make-up game. I'm not doing another."

"Come on!" Carter pleaded, clasping her hands together and batting her eyelashes. "You're the best catcher we've ever had."

"That says more about your team than it does about me," Shaw shot back. She slumped back into the booth, picking up her beer. "I'm not into team sports."

Carter rolled her eyes and turned to Fusco. "Help me out here."

"What am I supposed to say?" he asked helplessly. At Carter's glare, he scratched his head and turned to Shaw. "How about...uh…" His eyes lit up. "I'll buy you as many hotdogs as you want!"

Chuckling, Shaw just toasted with her beer. "Not good enough, Lionel."

Carter slapped his arm. "Hotdogs? Offer hamburgers! Everyone likes a hamburger."

"Hamburgers?" he repeated, scoffing. "Hamburgers have nothing on hotdogs."

"Excuse me?"

Sensing the start of another bickering match, Shaw took a sip of her beer and turned her attention away. She looked over the crowd at the Black Cherry. It was Friday night and the place was packed as always. She told herself she wasn't looking for Root.

In the two weeks since they'd broken up, Shaw had succeeded in pushing Root from her mind. Instead of thinking about her every waking moment, she only thought about her a few times a day. It was usually when she was working on the assembly line, putting together radios, or when she was riding the bus or her motorcycle, or when she was at Reese's house, or at the Black Cherry, or at a shindig with her friends. So. Hardly at all.

Shaw tried not to wonder if Root was still doing well, or if she'd made a misstep with Zoe that had gotten back to the mob. It wasn't like Shaw would do anything if Root had been hurt. It wasn't her job to protect her anymore. It had never been her job apparently.

She did her best to just focus on her work and her friends, but she was finding that she missed the company. Root had always been a good time and a good conversation. Shaw hated that she missed Root. She'd never worried about anyone before. Maybe Reese, but that was because he'd enlisted his stupid ass and went to fucking war.

He was living the high life now. Shaw basically had his whole house to herself these days. Reese spent all his time at Finch's place. It was impossible not to imagine what it would be like to have Root with her in the house. Every room brought back memories.

It wasn't affecting her, Shaw thought to herself. Root had gotten into her head and Shaw just had to kick her out again. Maybe it was time to distract herself with someone else. Looking around the bar, her eyes landed on an Asian woman who was looking at her with large, dark eyes. Shaw sipped her beer as the woman toasted her.

Winking, Shaw toasted back. She just needed to remind herself that she wasn't the relationship type. She should never have gotten serious with Root in the first place. The way to stay safe was to limit the time spent with other people. Three nights. Fuck them and forget them.

"Shaw?"

Blinking, Shaw turned back to her friends. She'd gotten lost in thought. "Yeah?"

Carter frowned at her. "Did you hear what I said?"

"I'll be honest," Shaw replied, sitting up to face the table, "No." The friends laughed and Shaw crossed her arms on the table, keeping an eye on the attractive woman at the bar. "Was it hotdogs or hamburgers? Because you've forgotten the best option. Cheeseburgers."

The word reminded her of Root and she frowned. How had everything she liked suddenly become connected to Root? Shaw couldn't buy a bud without thinking about Root. She couldn't shower, or get dressed, or drink coffee without some memory coming to mind. Maybe it was because she was still going to all the same places they went together. Maybe she needed to find new places, or actually leave the city.

"I was asking if new uniforms would persuade you to join the game."

Laughing, Shaw wrapped her hands around her beer. "'New' Uniforms? You didn't have old uniforms."

Shrugging, Carter just grinned. "Well, now we have new uniforms. Someone anonymously donated some! They were at the back door when Harper opened yesterday. They even say Black Cherry on the front!"

"Who would donate uniforms to our little outfit?" Fusco asked, snorting. He took a sip of his Coca-Cola. "We're not good enough for anyone to know we exist."

"Root does," Carter said quietly. She waited for Shaw's eyes to meet her before giving her a meaningful look. "I think Root donated them. She's the only person we know with the money."

Shaw clenched her jaw, knowing that Carter was right. It was so like Root to flaunt her money like that. She probably just wanted to remind Shaw that she was better off. Shaw tried to ignore the way the knot in her stomach loosened at the confirmation that Root was still ok.

"If anything," Shaw said, "that makes me less likely to play. What if Root came to admire the new uniforms?"

Carter and Lionel shared a glance. They'd been doing that a lot lately, and it was starting to grate on Shaw's nerves. She didn't need to be pitied. She wasn't sad that Root was gone, wasn't upset, wasn't missing her. She was just angry that she'd wasted so much time.

"Shaw…" Carter started, resting her arms on the table. "Maybe you should talk to her."

"I tried that," Shaw bit, hackles rising. "She doesn't want to listen and I'm not going to beg. I'm not going to watch her make a mistake and get killed. I'm not going to visit her in Ridgestone. I'm not going to stick around until I hate the person who loves me."

Both Fusco and Carter looked surprised at that. Shaw clicked her tongue, looking away. Her eyes landed on the woman at the bar and she thought again about just drowning her anger between someone's legs. If she couldn't love anyone, she might as well not even try.

"Did she say that?" Fusco asked. "Did she say she loves you?"

"What does it matter?"

Carter scoffed. "It matters, Shaw. If Root loves you-"

"It doesn't matter." Shaw pushed a hand through her hair. "I can't love her back. I was stupid to even pretend. I mean, is she really going to be fine with that in five years? Ten? How long until what I have to give isn't enough for her anymore? No. She's proven that I'm not enough now and I will never be."

"Bullshit." Fusco pointed his finger in Shaw's face. "That chick knows who you are and, somehow, she loves you anyway. You're an idiot to leave."

"She told me to go!"

Rolling her eyes, Carter crossed her arms. "You know that's not what she meant. She wanted you to cool your temper. You're just running away because you're scared that you might really care for her."

Shaw gripped her glass until her knuckles creaked. She didn't care about anyone and she never would. It was pointless to even try. She should have slept with Root the first week and gotten it out of her system. All the sneaking around and teasing was what got her interested, not Root herself.

So what if Shaw had started reading the newspaper because she missed the way Root would tell her the daily news? So what if she watched Milton Berle alone now? So what if she slept in the guestroom because the bed still smelled like Root?

Even through the haze of her anger, Shaw knew she was lying. For the first time in her life, she really missed someone. When Reese was away at war, Shaw could write him letters and listen to the radio and talk to his mother. Now? Now, she just had to wait for her attachment to Root to fade and hope she didn't run into her on the street.

"Of course I care about her," Shaw said almost inaudibly. "But I left. She wouldn't want to see me anyway."

"I don't think that's true," Carter replied gently. "Why don't you talk to her? Tell her you love her in your own way."

The reminder that Shaw didn't love the same as other people stung and she chugged the last of her beer. She'd made her decision when she left Root and she wasn't going to grovel at her feet to go back. Slamming her glass onto the table, she wiped her mouth.

"Forget it. I've just had too much to drink."

"Shaw-"

She cut Fusco off. "No. I'm done talking about this. I'll see you on Monday."

Sliding out of the booth, she pushed her way through the crowd to the woman at the bar. If drinking alone didn't get Root out of her head, then she'd push her out. The woman smiled flirtatiously at Shaw when she approached.

"Hello," the woman said in an accented voice. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming over."

Shaw grinned. "You know, you have a beautiful accent and I have an ear for it, but I can't place it. Where are you from originally?"

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

THREE WEEKS AFTER

Root tossed another spool of wire into a cardboard box. Her headache had faded somewhat in the past week and she'd decided it might finally be time to clean her apartment. So far, that meant filling two trash bags with assorted scrap and drinking an entire bottle of wine. She'd say it was going well.

For the first time in who knew how long, she could see the shiny cherry wood of her dining table. It was only in small patches, the rest still covered with abandoned projects, but she'd count it as a victory. Taking a sip from the glass of wine in her hand, she sifted through the mess with her free hand, looking for more spools.

She was well on her way to very drunk, but she figured she should keep pretending to work. It was a Sunday night, but that didn't mean she had to be sober. In fact, she hadn't been sober for most of the weekend. Picking out another spool, she dropped it with a small cheer into the box.

"Maybe I'll sleep on my table tonight," she said thoughtfully before drinking. "A little change of scenery."

Noise from the television made her turn her head and she watched as Mr. Disney gave a tour of Disneyland. Root finished her glass, tilting her head back and moved to the couch, sitting delicately. She reached forward to put her glass on the coffee table and then settled back into the cushions.

The park looked like fun, and from what Root had read in the newspapers, it was amazing. She'd never been to California and now she wasn't dating anyone who would take her. Maybe she'd go by herself. Maybe she'd buy a car, drive along Route 66, and go to Disneyland. She'd have her mob money and there wasn't anything keeping her in New York.

The thought made her giggle and she dropped sideways onto the couch. The tv screen swam in front of her blurry vision. Rolling onto her back, she stared up at the ceiling, one arm hanging off the side of the couch and the other thrown over her head.

She had nothing. Well. Nobody. Root still had her fancy job and her nice apartment and her new, fashionable clothes, but she didn't have any friends or anyone that cared about her. What was keeping her in the city? Other than the deal with Elias.

Nothing and nobody. With a small smile, Root sat up carefully. It was kind of nice to be free of attachments. There was no one to dress for, perform for, take care of, but herself and that meant she could do whatever she wanted to.

With that thought in mind, she glared at her dining table. She didn't want to clean it. So, she wouldn't. Laughing, she climbed off the couch and started for her bedroom. The alcohol was making her body buzz pleasantly and she lifted her pajama shirt to run her nails over the soft skin of her stomach. She hummed softly as she walked into her room.

One good thing about her time with Sameen, one of many, was the memories of sex. They fueled Root's fantasies and helped her loneliness. She spent most of her nights in bed, remembering their time together and the way Sameen's touch made her tremble and shake. Root finally had pleasant memories to think of when she was alone.

Stopping beside her bed, her fuzzy brain tried to remember if that was why she'd gone into her room. No. She looked over her shoulder at her closet. She was going to pack for Disneyland. She couldn't leave until her project was done, but that didn't mean she couldn't pack now. She needed the suitcase from her closet.

Hurrying across the room, she flung open the doors and froze. Like a dark bruise on pale skin, Sameen's suit hung between Root's light-colored dresses. With shaking hands, Root took the hanger down and held the suit up in front of her.

Sameen had only worn it once, the day she got it, but Root had the image burned into her brain forever. Even through her drunkenness, she could remember the ease with which Sameen moved in it, and the way her brown skin had glowed against the crisp white collar. She remembered how Sameen had been such a gentleman when they'd gone back to the hotel, and how it had been one of the best nights of her life.

Suddenly, she realized that she was angry. Sameen had blown through her life like a whirlwind, uprooting everything, and then disappeared just as quickly, taking all the good with her. Root was irreversibly changed by the experience, but Sameen got to just move on with her life as if none of it had ever happened. She was probably in another state now, seducing another unsuspecting woman.

Sameen would have no reason to stay in New York City now, either. She'd been the one desperate to leave after all. Root had just offered to go with her. It wouldn't surprise her to find out that Sameen had just strapped her bag to the back of her stupid motorcylce and hit the road. Root threw the suit across the room. It landed on the back of a couch and slid to the floor.

Just because Sameen wasn't bringing her places anymore didn't mean that Root had to stay home. The Black Cherry was as much for her as it was for Sameen. She wouldn't be kept out because she was single now. In fact, Root would probably be welcomed with cheers. Hadn't three women tried to pick her up the first night she'd gone?

Root was desirable and she was finally in a place to let herself be desired. She didn't have Sameen there to scare potential suitors away. Ready to go out, Root spun around and stumbled, her balance gone after so much wine.

Steadying herself, she sighed. It might not be best to go out in this condition. With newfound determination, Root decided to go to the bar on Friday night, when it was always packed. She would dance with whoever she wanted and she might even go home with someone. It would be a new experience for her, but she was the kind of woman who thrived on new experiences.

Grinning, she walked unsteadily to bed and climbed in. She was looking forward to the next week for the first time in a while. Maybe she'd even invite Claire along. The girl needed some new experiences, too. Root didn't want her to end up lost, too.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

ONE MONTH AFTER

"Jesus Christ," Shaw muttered, eyeing the Friday night crowd with annoyance. "Is it just me or are there twice as many people as normal?"

Fusco laughed from across the booth. "I think it's just you. You're getting grumpy in your old age."

She glared at him. "Watch your mouth, grandpa. I could take you down."

"I'd like to see you try!"

They threw mock-punches at each other across the table as Carter appeared beside them and slid into the booth beside Shaw.

"What's this?" she asked, grinning. "I'm late once and you two turn into children."

Lunging across the table, Shaw smacked the side of Fusco's head with a loud laugh. Dropping into her seat, she turned to smirk at Carter and threw her arm around her shoulders.

"This old man tried to call me old," she explained. Sticking her tongue out at Fusco, she watched gleefully as he rubbed his head. "He can't even dodge a smack."

He glowered at her. "You should respect your elders. Carter, tell her to respect her elders."

"I'm not getting involved in this," she said, holding her hands up. "Besides, I don't respect you either."

She laughed with Shaw as Fusco just threw his hands up. The past couple of weeks had been good for Shaw. She'd been to the bar almost every night, drinking and picking up women, and it was definitely making her feel better. Not that she'd ever been upset about Root.

Taking her arm back from Carter, she picked her drink up and tossed her head back, finishing it off. She had found that drinking helped keep her mind off Root. Of course, it only worked to a certain extent. When she got too drunk, the only thoughts she could form were about the woman. Shaw put her glass down and figured she could handle at least two more drinks.

"So," Carter started, leaning toward Fusco, "Peter has a new girl."

"Gross," Shaw chuckled, dramatically shaking her shoulders. "Who'd he con into dating him?"

"I don't know! We haven't met her yet."

Fusco's face scrunched sceptically. "I bet he made her up. No broad is gonna fall for that idiot."

Tapping on Carter's shoulder, Shaw nodded to the end of the booth. "Let me out. I need another drink if we're going to talk about Collier."

Carter grinned and slid out of the booth. She moved into the other side beside Fusco as Shaw climbed out. Looking the crowd over, Shaw took a deep breath before pushing her way to the bar.

She was sure that there were more people than usual, but maybe it had just been light the past few weeks. She hadn't exactly been counting patrons. As she shoved her way forward, she looked around for any potential lovers. Her thing with Kelli had lasted the whole weekend, but Shaw had put a new three night limit on her company.

When she finally breached the other side of the crowd, the bar was blocked by a tall brunette. Shaw looked her over, taking in the way her jeans hugged long legs before tucking into sturdy new boots. Her hair hung past her shoulders in soft curls. Ignoring how much she looked like someone else, Shaw tapped her on the shoulder.

When she looked over her shoulder, Shaw froze. It was Root. She seemed just as surprised to see Shaw there, but she managed a small smile. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she turned around.

"Hi," she said, crossing her arms. "I didn't expect to see you here. I… thought you left the city."

Shaw shoved her hands into her pockets, shifting awkwardly. "No. I didn't."

She didn't know what to say. Her brain was screaming at her to apologize or start yelling or just kiss her, but Shaw restrained herself. Root looked amazing, somehow even more beautiful than Shaw remembered. She was wearing less make-up and her hair wasn't pinned up at all. Her blouse and jeans fit her naturally, like she'd been dressing like this for years. It took all of Shaw's strength not to grab her.

Root was looking at her thoughtfully, clearly still sober. It seemed like an unfair advantage. Shaw nodded to the bar.

"I want a drink."

Raising an eyebrow, Root moved over, leaning on the bar. "Sure you haven't had enough?"

Shaw glanced at her, annoyed, and flagged down Harper. From across the bar, Harper nodded at her, turning back to the person she was talking to. It was so busy that it would take a minute to get her drink. Shaw considered just going back to the booth, or just going home.

"How have you been?" Root asked casually, still looking at her with intense eyes. "How's the promotion?"

Shaw shrugged, deciding that looking away was her best option. "It's fine. Radios are radios. Nothing as exciting as what you're doing."

Root just nodded and looked away, too. They watched Harper tear herself away from the woman she was talking to and start mixing a drink. Shaw wondered if Root was still drinking Bud or if she'd gone back to wine. It didn't matter to her either way.

Glancing at Root's hand, Shaw noticed two fingers taped together. "How's the project?" Shaw asked, pointing at the injury. Catching herself, she held her hand up. "Actually, don't tell me."

"It's going really well," Root answered despite Shaw's comment. She held up her hand so Shaw could see it better. "I had an...accident. It's not as bad as it looks. I think we'll be done in a couple of weeks."

Shaw's hands clenched into fists. Had the mob broken her fingers because she wasn't working fast enough? Was Root getting hurt because of the deal? If Shaw had been there- She cut herself off before she could head down that road. This was exactly why she'd distanced herself.

She realized that Root had said the project would be done soon. If Root wasn't working with the mob anymore, then what reason did Shaw have to stay away? If she decided to take on another project with them, what did that mean? Was she officially a part of the criminal underground? Would Shaw still need to worry? Not that she was worrying about Root.

"Whatever," she finally mumbled as Harper approached them. "Have fun."

"Root!" another voice called. A vaguely familiar woman appeared at Root's side, clinging to her arm. "This place is so fun! You were right! A much better idea than going out to dinner."

Shaw stared at her for a moment, trying to place her. The woman looked at her and scowled.

"What are you doing here? Haven't you done enough?"

Root picked up two glasses of something dark and handed one to the woman. "Be nice, Claire."

"Claire?" Shaw repeated, the pieces clicking into place. "From Chicago?"

"Yeah," Claire said, lifting her chin. "You got a problem with that?"

A Bud landed on the bar beside her and Shaw took it, looking up at Root. "Wow," she said scornfully. "Can't stand to be alone for a minute, huh? Good luck making this one work."

Shaw practically threw herself into the crowd to get away from Root and Claire. Her stomach was rolling unpleasantly and she needed to sit down before she threw up. Getting to her booth, she dropped heavily into her seat and slammed the can of Bud onto the table.

Carter raised her eyebrows. "Uh, what happened?"

"Root has a new girlfriend," Shaw spat, crossing her arms. "I should have known it wouldn't take her long to find someone else. She couldn't even break up with Reese before getting with me."

Exchanging a glance with Fusco, Carter adjusted herself in the seat, licking her lips. "Root has a new girlfriend?"

"I don't know if they're pinned or anything," Shaw clarified, "but she's with someone. She met her in Chicago the same weekend we went." Laughing humorlessly, Shaw rolled her eyes. "Of course she was already evaluating her other options."

"Hold on a second," Fusco said, stopping that train of thought. "How do you know this? Did someone tell you?"

"She's here." Shaw gestured vaguely to the crowd. "She came to my spot with her new girl. The fucking nerve."

Carter sighed. "Well, couldn't this new girl just be a friend? How do you know they were going steady?"

Shaw threw her hands up. "It doesn't matter! She's over me! Apparently, I meant so fucking little to her that she can just-" Closing her eyes, Shaw shook her head. "I don't care. She can do what she wants. If I'm not what she wants, then whatever."

"Shaw, did you ask her?" Carter tried. "You should talk to her."

"I don't want to," Shaw said, sounding childish even to herself. "I'm tired of thinking about her."

Fusco cleared his throat. "If you're still thinking about her all this time, then maybe that means something."

"Yeah. It means I need to leave this fucking city."


	24. Rebel Without A Cause

"To Miss Groves and her team," Harold toasted, lifting his glass of Champagne. "Thank you for your dedication and the impossibly fast pace. A year ago this would have all been impossible, but this whole office worked tirelessly to create the Acoustic Coupler and Modem. I'm sure this will lead to even more discovery in the future. Cheers."

"Cheers!"

Root raised her glass along with the rest of the office, smiling politely. She kept her thoughts off her face. This hadn't been some monumental team effort. She'd personally spent the past few years doing the math and working on the projects that had built the foundation for this work. Of course she couldn't undermine the amount of work the team did, her small group especially, but still. This was mostly her success.

She sipped her Champagne as she looked around the room. People were splitting off into small groups, chatting amongst themselves. Claire was talking to Jason and Daniel, gesturing wildly about something. The four of them had grown close over the past month and a half. She'd particularly grown close to Claire, going out to drinks with her most nights.

Contrary to what Sameen had thought two weeks before, Root was not dating Claire. For one thing, Claire was almost twenty years her junior. For another, Root wasn't interested in dating someone else. She only wanted Shaw and that was impossible at the moment. So, she was just going to stay single.

Besides, it was nice to have some time to herself. It had been so long since she'd been independent, without the pressure of a relationship. It wasn't particularly fun, but it wasn't terrible. Root didn't need a relationship to feel whole. Even so, she still missed Sameen.

She'd thrown herself into her work for the past month, forcing herself to focus on something beside her heartbreak. She'd begun working twelve-hour days, even on the weekends. What little free time she allowed herself was spent hanging out with Claire, or calling travel agents. She tried to convince herself that she was being productive; she wasn't just pushing her feelings away.

All that work had led to a lack of sleep. Root looked at her hand, now free of its bandages, but still a little bruised. She'd been helping Daniel carry a printer into the storage room and a yawn had threatened to over take her. Holding it back, her eyes had watered and she'd tripped over a box of punch cards. The printer had landed on her hand, bruising two fingers. It had hurt at the time, but now there was just the lingering sickly green and yellow.

She looked up to see that Harold had started walking toward where she was leaning against the closed door to her office. Their little celebration had taken place in the main computer room, but Root tried to stay out of the way as much as possible. She wanted credit, but that didn't mean she wanted the full attention of her coworkers. Tossing back the last of her Champagne, she pushed herself off the door and gave Harold a tight smile.

"Haven't seen you in a while, Harold," Root said instead of a greeting. "I was beginning to think you were avoiding me."

" Yes, well." Harold coughed into his fist. "I apologize. I admit that I should have spoken to you sooner."

Her eyes narrowed. "You should have spoken to me four years ago."

With a stiff nod, he gestured toward the door behind her. "Perhaps we could speak in private."

She raised her eyes to the ceiling, but opened the door and stepped into her office. Moving to sit behind her desk, she savored the small joy she got from watching him hesitate. He closed the door slowly and walked to her guest chairs. She kept her face neutral as he lowered himself into a seat.

"What do you have to say?" Root asked, not caring if she was rude to her boss.

He winced as he folded his hands in his lap. "I'd like to apologize...for the past few years. I shouldn't have used you the way that I did, but-"

"No," she interrupted, holding up a hand. "You shouldn't have, and no amount of excuses will make it better." When his shoulders slumped, she sighed and rubbed her forehead. "I'm angry, Harold, at you and John both, but I… suppose I understand. I know what it's like to be unconventional and I can imagine what it was like four years ago, or even fifteen years ago, when I started working for you."

He seemed surprised at that. "Fifteen years? Has it really been that long?"

She chuckled, and some of the tension left her as she sat back in her chair. "Yeah. It has."

"I'm thankful for your loyalty," he said quietly. "I'm glad I hired you when I did."

Despite the betrayal, Root couldn't help but feel fondly toward Harold. He gave her an opportunity that she might never have had otherwise. It hurt to be used by someone she had admired so much, but it also reminded her that everyone was human and that no one deserved to be worshipped. She wasn't sure what to say.

"If I may change the subject…" Harold waited for her to nod. "I would like you to have joint ownership of the patent for the Acoustic Coupler and Modem. Of course, Thornhill Industries will hold the patent, but it is your invention and I believe that your name should be on it as well."

Root stared at him, stunned. He wanted her name on the patent? It was going to make millions and having her name on it would mean that she would get a part of that. Harold was already a millionaire, but surely he knew how much this money would change her life.

"There's no denying how much you have influenced the project," he continued, "and I know an apology for my behaviour will never suffice, but maybe this will help. I'm filing for both a design patent and a utility patent, so both will have your name. The Department of Defense is leasing the patent from us for the duration, which is twenty years. After that, we'll have to renegotiate."

_Twenty years._ It took all of Root's control not to let her mouth fall open. She'd never dreamed of having that much money and she didn't quite know what to think. It would be easy to move away now. She could buy a house out west without batting an eye. She could buy a car, or even a plane with that money. It was world-changing money.

"I'm quitting," Root said before her brain caught up with her. She blinked. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so abrupt. Thank you for including me on the patent. I had already decided to quit."

Harold sighed heavily, nodding his understanding. "I had guessed as much." He smiled kindly. "Fifteen years. I'm glad for the chance to watch you grow, as a programmer and as a person. I wouldn't dare try to set you up with John now."

"At least you've learned something," she joked back. Taking a deep breath, she tried to figure out what she wanted to say to him. They'd worked together for so long and he'd both hurt and helped her so much. How can that be easily summed up? "Thank you," she settled on. "Thank you for taking a chance on me when I was fresh out of school, and for promoting me when Weeks left. It was an amazing opportunity for me and I know I wouldn't be where I am without you. But…"

"I know," he replied. Smacking his hands on his knees, he raised his eyebrows. "You've outgrown me, and that's good. I only wish you well. If you ever want to come back, a job will be here for you."

Knowing that took a great weight off her shoulders. Even though Root never intended to come back to the city, it was a relief to know that if her search for something more failed and she ended up with nothing, she would always have something to fall back on. She nodded, holding back her emotion.

"Thanks." She pushed her hair behind her ear. "If it's alright, I'd like today to be my last day. I'll call you when I have an address where you can send the patent paperwork."

"Are you moving?" he asked, curiously. "I suppose with your newfound wealth, you can move somewhere much nicer."

Root smirked. She wanted to tease him and say that she was buying the house on the other side of his, making him and John her new neighbors. Instead, she just shrugged. "I'm leaving the city. I'm thinking about getting a house out west. Now, with the patent money, I can spend my time working on my own projects. Working for myself."

"Sounds like a dream," Harold replied, smiling fondly. "I wish you the best. I'll have Zoe do the paperwork for your resignation. She'll send it along with the patent paperwork."

He stood and Root followed his lead, moving around her desk. His hand lifted, as if he was going to shake hers, before dropping. Stepping forward, he hugged her, arms wrapping around her shoulders. Root was surprised to realize that she felt sad about leaving Thornhill. It was her first big job and she'd done her best work during her time with the company. Closing her eyes, she hugged Harold back.

After a moment, they broke apart and Root stepped back, leaning her butt against the edge of her desk. "I'll see you around, Harold."

He nodded sharply and left the room, closing the door behind him. Sighing, Root looked around the office. She'd taken most of her personal belongings home over the past week and there was only her purse to take now. Her eyes landed on a stack of boxes against the wall.

She'd packed away an acoustic coupler and modem the night before, labelling the boxes 'old punchcards.' Harold hadn't even taken a second look at them. The boxes also held instructions, paperwork, a copy of the most important punch cards, and a set of schematics. Now that the patent was going to be hers as well, Root wondered if the trouble she'd get in for giving the equipment to Elias would be reduced if someone found out. Probably not.

She was honestly too exhausted to care. The weeks of constant work had taken their toll on her, and so had the uneasy sleep. Root could only distract herself from her break-up for so many hours of the day and then thoughts of Sameen crept into her head.

A part of her wanted to explain that she wasn't dating Claire and ask Sameen if they could be together now that her deal with Elias was done. Another part of her was still furious that Sameen didn't trust her. Either way, it probably didn't matter now. Root hadn't seen her at the Black Cherry again and she could guess that Sameen had actually left this time. Even if she hadn't, Root was leaving and it would truly be over between them.

Root would probably always have a place in her heart for Sameen. It was an eye-opening relationship and Root understood how she wanted to be treated now. She'd really found herself again and that wouldn't have happened without Sameen. Root just wished it wasn't in the past.

Someone knocked on the door and Root shook her head, pulling herself out of her thoughts. "Come in," she called, standing from her desk.

The door opened and Zoe poked her head in, smiling tightly. "Have a moment?"

"Sure." Retreating behind her desk, Root sat in her chair and crossed her arms on her desk. "Have a seat."

Zoe entered and closed the door behind her quietly, a thick envelope in her hand. She sat in the same seat Harold had and delicately crossed her legs. "Congratulations."

"Thank you." A moment of silence passed. Root gestured to the boxes. "For you. For Elias. I'd suggest retrieving them after the office closes."

Smiling, Zoe rested her elbow on the arm of her chair and rested her chin on her fist. "Thank you." She chuckled to herself. "Hard to believe we're having this conversation. A few months ago, we'd hardly spoken."

"And then you decided I would be a good asset," Root responded sharply. "Why does everyone in my life try to use me?"

"You have a lot of use," Zoe replied honestly. She shrugged. "Stop letting yourself be used."

Root raised an eyebrow meaningfully. "Oh, I intend to." Sitting up, she rolled her shoulders back. "Are we done here?"

With a put-upon sigh, Zoe stood up. "We are." Hesitating for a moment, her composed facade faded a little bit. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I enjoyed having you as a friend. I hope, in time, we can return to that."

Root decided to keep her departure to herself. It felt powerful to have a piece of information that Zoe didn't. Instead of telling her that there wouldn't be any reconnection, Root gave her a cheerful smile and reached out for the envelope. Zoe gave it to her and began to leave the office.

"Zoe?" Root called after her, before she could stop herself. There was still something weighing on her mind. "One last question."

With a half-hearted smile, Zoe turned back to her. "Yes?"

"What is Ridgestone?"

The smile fell from her face. "It's…" She hesitated, crossing her arms. "It's a hospital, a _state_ hospital, for… those unable to live in normal society."

Root understood what she meant and nodded slowly. If she had failed with Elias, she would have been locked away. That didn't seem too terrible. Root would have just pretended to become "cured" and then be let free. "Why is Shaw so terrified of it? It's just a hospital."

Wincing, Zoe looked away. She seemed tense and Root could imagine her bolting from the room. "The process of becoming cured isn't straightforward. They don't just accept that you've been cured based on your behaviour or talk therapy. The treatments are painful and the doctors are… committed to proving their effectiveness. "

"Just tell me," Root snapped, the envelope in her hands crunching as she clenched her fist. She stood. "I'm tired of vague descriptions."

"Shock therapy," Zoe answered. "Mental hygiene films. I'm sure the doctors try more _practical _tactics. If those fail to satisfy the psychologists, then there is always lobotomy. I'm sure Shaw was threatened with something similar in California."

With that, she left the office and closed the door silently behind her. Root stood shocked at her desk. A lobotomy. She'd thought that Ridgestone was a prison, or some sort of reform institution for criminals, but to know that she'd been that close to being locked away until she'd been broken, lobotomized or otherwise. The reality of the situation finally landed on her.

That's why Shaw had been so upset. Root hadn't been willing to listen to her. She was too focused on wanting to be her own person and take chances. She'd forgotten how real the danger was, but Shaw hadn't. Shaw lived with that danger, had experienced the reality of the harm that could come to them. Root should have let her speak.

Not bothering to count the money, Root shook her head and tucked the envelope into her back pocket. She didn't want to let the shadow of danger ruin her success. Her time in New York was rapidly coming to a close and she was running out of loose ends to tie up. She'd already told Claire, Jason, and Daniel that she was leaving. The only thing left to do was actually leave.

Taking a deep breath, she opened her desk drawer and retrieved her wallet and keys. It still hadn't fully hit her that she was never coming back to this office. She'd grown up here and now she had outgrown it. She took the key to the office off her keyring and put it on her desk.

Whatever danger she'd been in, she was out of it now. She'd been successful and completed her end of the deal. Still, it would be good to leave the city. Maybe she'd run into Shaw out there in the world and give her the apology she deserved. Maybe they could try again. With a sigh, she looked down at the keys in her hand.

The key to John's house was still on her keyring, beside the key to her own apartment. They were the only two keys she had. Looking at the two small, silver keys in her hand made her feel untethered. It shouldn't be so easy to just leave her life behind. Including college, she'd lived in New York for over twenty years. It had taken her a few hours to pack her life away and terminate all her connections.

Heading out onto the main floor, Root left her office door open. Zoe would need access later. Some feeling was stirring in Root's chest and she wasn't sure if it was a good or bad one. She reached the elevator and pushed the button, thinking about the rest of the evening.

For the first time in a long time, she was free to do whatever she wanted. The realization hit her that she could do whatever she wanted for the rest of her life. The elevator arrived and she stepped into it, a grin stretching across her face as she pushed the button for the lobby. She finally had the time to be herself, whoever she wanted that to be. If Shaw could live as herself, then Root could, too. She'd proven that at least.

As the elevator took her down, she laughed. She didn't have a boss anymore, or a job, or any responsibilities. She was free. She could go wherever she wanted to and do anything she could imagine. There was no one to hold her accountable or hold her back. It was just her and the whole wide world.

The doors opened and Root strode across the lobby with quick, sure steps. She barely noticed the large lobby around her. It didn't make her feel small anymore. Its fancy decor seemed garish instead of classy and she was glad that she'd never have to look at it again.

She pushed her way through the glass doors and stopped beside the gaggle of secretaries taking a break outside. She almost felt sorry for them now. They had to work 9 to 5 every day for the foreseeable future or until they found a husband to finance their lives. Root didn't envy them. It had taken a lot of hard work to avoid that life, but now she could finance her own life and maybe one day, she'd be the one to finance another good woman's life.

She spotted Martine in the group, her gloved fingers holding a lit cigarette. Root's happiness filled her and she couldn't even bring herself to hate Martine as much as she used to. Walking to her, Root took the cigarette from her fingers. When Martine opened her mouth to protest, Root kissed her, her hand cupping the back of Martine's head.

Before she pulled away, she felt Martine's tongue brush over her lips and she grinned. Taking a step backwards, Root stuck the lipstick-stained cigarette between her teeth and gave her a mock salute. The shocked look on Martine's and all the secretaries' faces was just the cherry on top of Root's good mood.

With a dismissive laugh, Root started down the street toward her apartment. She happily smoked the stolen cigarette, looking forward to the rest of her night. There was a bottle of Champagne in her refrigerator, and she was going to get drunk and watch a television. Tonight, she was going to celebrate the rest of her life.

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Shaw slowed her bike to a stop at the red light, dropping a foot onto the street to steady herself. The sun had set below the tall buildings, but she couldn't wait any longer to leave New York. Maybe late on a Friday night wasn't the best time to hit the road, but it was time for her to leave. Around her, the streetlights cast an orange glow over the fast-moving crowd that walked along the sidewalks.

She wondered if Root was among them. Since she'd run into Root at the Black Cherry two weeks ago, she'd been on edge. It hadn't affected her work, but she just wasn't happy in the city and she was under no obligation to stay somewhere if it wasn't working out. Everything reminded her of Root and she was tired of it. Maybe leaving would help, maybe it wouldn't, but she had to try.

The light turned green and she opened up the throttle, picking up speed. Reese had understood her decision to go and told her that she could come back whenever she wanted to. The look on his face had told her that he knew she wasn't going to come back. When she found somewhere else to live, she could invite him to say with her. If she found somewhere else to live.

The city streamed past her as she headed out. It was hard to believe that she'd only lived here for five months. She was leaving with exactly as much as she'd arrived with. It was probably for the best. She could only fit one duffelbag on her motorcycle. It was for the best that she didn't have a second passenger, or a large stuffed dog.

Glancing over her shoulder, she shifted into the left lane and turned. She'd put in her two weeks notice with Fusco right after she'd run into Root. When the work day had ended earlier, she had promised him and Carter that she would stop by the bar and say goodbye to everyone. Shaw wondered when she ended up with a group of people that she had to leave behind.

A block from the bar, she hit another red light and stopped, dropping both feet and sitting back. In spite of herself, she looked toward Root's office. It was impossible to deny that she still wanted to be with Root, but that wasn't possible anymore. Shaw just didn't know how to fix the situation, and so she was just going to leave and forget about it.

Just like she'd run away from California to avoid the consequences of a failed would-be relationship, she was running away from New York. Scoffing at herself, she adjusted her helmet. She wasn't running away again. She was leaving an unpleasant situation. By choice. Because she wanted to. Hopefully, she'd find somewhere to settle soon.

Or maybe she wouldn't. Shaw drove forward when the light changed and pulled up to the curb in front of the Black Cherry. There was nothing wrong with moving around and Shaw might be better suited to that life. If she didn't stay in one place for too long, didn't get too close to anyone, she could avoid another situation like Root. Even as she thought it, she knew there was no 'situation' like Root.

Shaw missed her. More than she could bring herself to admit. She missed talking about the world, sleeping in the same bed, having to work harder and be better. Root had pushed her in a way no one else had before. Maybe that was why Shaw had finally snapped and left. Maybe Shaw was just a coward.

Throwing her leg over her motorcycle, she unclipped her helmet and slipped it off her head. Her hair fell into her face and she pushed it back with a scowl. She hadn't cut her hair since the last time Root had told her to. She'd have to decide for herself what to do with her hair now.

Movement across the street caught her attention and she turned her head to see Zoe leaving Root's work, two men behind her carrying boxes. Shaw could guess what they held. Seeing Zoe made her angrier than she would have expected. If that bitch hadn't wormed her way into Root's good graces and then tricked her, Shaw wouldn't have to leave New York.

She would still be living with Root and working with Fusco and Carter. They would be part of the softball league, a part of the bar, a part of each other's lives. Shaw would never have lost her temper and broken up with Root. They would have been together sooner if Zoe hadn't told Root to hold her feelings back. It might not be fair to blame all of her problems on Zoe, but fuck if it didn't feel good.

Before she knew that she was moving, Shaw was halfway across the street. Her blood was boiling and she barely heard the honk of angry drivers as she walked in front of their cars. The noise caught Zoe's attention and she looked in Shaw's direction as she rounded the corner and crossed the street again. Zoe tried to seem calm and collected, but Shaw noted the way she took a slight step backward, putting her bodyguards between them.

"How dare you," Shaw growled, planting herself in front of the two tall men. "How dare you fuck with Root like that? She trusted you!"

Zoe tucked her hands into the pockets of her too-fancy red dress. "Root knew what she was getting into. She knew I had ulterior motives to befriend her from the start. She's a big girl, Shaw."

"She's a smart woman," Shaw bit back, fists clenching, "but she doesn't know the world like we do. You took advantage of that."

"I did," Zoe admitted, shrugging casually. "That's my job. I'm very good at it. Root could have said no if she didn't want to do the job. It would have been over."

Shaw rolled her eyes. "Bullshit. Like you and your boss would have let her just walk away. I'm surprised they haven't just thrown her in Ridgestone anyway."

At that, Zoe's calm cracked just a little and she sighed, sounding remorseful. "I wouldn't have let that happen," she said softly. "I like Root and I think she'd be a great asset to our team, but if she didn't want to… Well, I would fight for her side."

Shaw stared at Zoe, something stirring in her chest. How could Zoe say she cared about Root and still drag her into such a dangerous situation? Shaw would have kept Root safe and out of harm's way. She remembered that she'd had the opportunity to do just that.

She could have stayed with Root and made sure no one hurt her. Root had her fingers in a brace when they'd run into each other. Was that because of Zoe and her boss? Had Root been hurt because of the deal? Because Shaw had left her alone?

The anger she had for Zoe turned in on itself, filling her to the brim with resentment. She was so stupid. Root was the best thing that had ever happened to her and she'd let her emotions get the best of her. The one time in her life that she had felt worried about someone, almost scared that the person she cared about was going to get hurt, Shaw had failed. She had just walked away.

Shaw didn't know if she loved Root, if she had it in her to love someone romantically, but, god, she cared so much. Root had found a way under Shaw's skin and inside her head and now Shaw had to live with the fact that she would never see her again. The only time in her life her emotional volume had been turned up and she'd smashed the speakers.

Root wasn't just a rich girl to conquer and corrupt. She was a woman, a person, who was brilliant and beautiful and fascinating. Shaw could only be herself, but Root could be anyone. She'd changed herself so many times and there was still so much changing to do. Shaw wished she could be there to see it.

"You should have kept her out of this," Shaw repeated, trembling with rage. "You're a terrible person."

Zoe raised an eyebrow. "And what are you?"

"I'm Root's girlfriend," she answered before she could stop herself.

"You're not, though." Zoe smiled with seemingly genuine sympathy. "You're nothing to her."

The tiny shred of control that Shaw had been clinging to finally disappeared and she lunged forward toward Zoe, intent on ripping her to pieces. The strong arms of a bodyguard wrapped around her waist and held her back. Blinded by rage, Shaw twisted in his arms and threw her head forward. She was rewarded by a satisfying crunch as his nose broke.

With that, the other bodyguard took her arm in a bruising grip, yanking her backwards. He shoved his fist into her stomach, knocking the wind out of her lungs and dropping her legs out from under her. Unwilling to lose a fight, she slammed her head forward a second time, targeting the large man right between the legs. With a grunt, he fell to his knees.

Gasping for air, Shaw threw herself at him. She shoved him to the ground and got in a few solid punches before a hand tangled in her too-long hair, pulling her back. The first bodyguard pushed her face into the hard cement of the sidewalk and crushed her hand under his boot.

The pain made Shaw's head swim and her mouth filled with blood. Spitting, she used her good hand to dig sharp nails into the man's ankle, kicking the other's stomach with her boot. Her vision blurred as pain bloomed in her stomach, the boot above her hand finding another resting place. She wasn't willing to give up, though, and tried to climb to her feet.

"Stay down, Shaw," Zoe's voice called, almost sounding sympathetic. "You have no dog in this hunt."

Lifting her head, Shaw spat blood in Zoe's direction. Zoe just rolled her eyes and nodded to the man who still had a grip on Shaw's hair. He smashed her head against the sidewalk again. Before she blacked out, Shaw heard Zoe sigh.

"Poor thing. You two take her home. I'll call Anthony for the boxes."

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Root ran her spoon along the bottom of her bowl, making sure to get the last drop of chocolate ice cream. She watched Dick Clark laugh on her television set, the camera too close to his face. Tipping the spoon into her mouth, she closed her eyes, savoring the sweetness.

It was her last night in her apartment and everything was packed except for her couch, the clothing she was planning to wear tomorrow, and what she was wearing at the moment. Looking at the empty bowl and spoon, she frowned, realizing that she had nothing to wash them with and she'd have to put them into their box dirty.

With a sigh, she stood from the couch and moved to the open box on her dining table. She picked up the large piece of brown paper she'd set aside and wrapped the bowl carefully. She set it inside the box, put the spoon beside it and closed the box.

Turning, she looked over her empty bookshelves, the table where her record player had been, and the dining table. For once, it wasn't covered in cables. Instead, it had four boxes on it. Everything else that she was bringing with her had been picked up by the movers, so it would be in Colorado before her. She was leaving her furniture behind. She wanted to start fresh in her new house and it would be easier to rent her apartment if it came furnished.

A cheer from the television startled her and she blinked. She glanced at the clock on the wall before remembering she'd packed it away. _American Bandstand _was almost over and that meant it was almost eleven. She should go to sleep so that she would be fresh for her move. Tomorrow morning, she would go to the car dealership and buy herself something beautiful and big. Then, she'd hit the road and never look back.

She took a step toward her bedroom, but a pounding on her door stopped her. Frowning, she crept toward it, wondering who would come to her apartment so late. It might be Elias' scarred bodyguard, demanding more work. Maybe Zoe had betrayed her once again.

Peering through the peephole, she gasped. It was John. He was sweating and out of breath. Despite her anger, she was worried that something had happened to him.

Root quickly unlocked the door and threw it open. "John?" she asked, as she pulled him inside. "What's wrong?"

"Shaw," he gasped, shaking his head. "She's hurt."

Her heart jumping into her throat, Root ran into the living room to turn off the TV. "Take me to her."

She hurried to her bedroom. Her suitcase was open on her couch and she tossed the clothing she had set out inside before zipping it shut. She didn't care that she was in her pajamas, the pantsuit that had become her favorite. Carrying her suitcase back to the entranceway, she shoved it at John. Her bare feet stuck to the inside of her boots as she tugged them on, but she couldn't care less.

Her mind whirling with images of Sameen near death, Root grabbed her keys from the side table and ushered John out into the hallway. He raced for the elevator as Root locked her door with shaking hands. Chasing after him, she jumped into the opening elevator and pushed the button for the first floor.

A thousand questions filled her mind, but she couldn't ask any of them. Instead, she found herself trembling with anxiety. What had happened? Had the bar been raided again? Had someone followed Sameen through the dark city only to beat her? A robbery gone wrong?

The elevator door opened and Root exited into the lobby, moving ahead of John to open the door. His car was parked right in front of her building, the drivers' door still open. They were lucky no one had taken it, but the sight made her worry grow. How bad was it that John was in this state?

He opened the backseat to toss her suitcase inside the car and she went around the front. Getting inside the car, she put her seatbelt on and lifted a foot onto the dashboard so she could tie her laces. Beside her, John started the car and turned sharply to head back toward his house.

They rode in silence for a moment as Root tied her shoes and took deep breaths. When her shoes were secure, she dropped her feet onto the floor and slumped back in her seat. She needed to calm down. It wouldn't do any good to ambush Sameen in her panic.

Looking at John, she pushed her loose hair from her face. "What happened? How hurt is she?"

John's grip was tight on the steering wheel. "She was in a fight. She couldn't tell us anything, but two men brought her to my house. One was driving her motorcycle and one had her in his car. Half of her face is scratched up, her nose is broken, her hand is crushed. Harold's doctor said she probably has a broken rib or two. She's-"

His voice cracked and Root had to blink back the tears that threatened to spill over her face. John was so stoic and calm that she forgot how deeply he cared about the people close to him. He wasn't some cold-hearted adulterer. He loved Sameen as much as Root did, just in a different way.

Reaching across the center console, Root pried one of John's hands off the steering wheel and tangled their fingers together. She put their hands on her lap and smiled at him. Seeing him like this stirred some of the old fondness in Root.

"She'll pull through it," Root told him, trying to convince herself, too. "Sameen is so strong. You know that. You think she'd let a few stray punches get her down?"

John chuckled weakly. "No."

"No," Root repeated, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "She's going to be just fine. Furious. But fine."

John flashed her a tight smile. "Thanks."

Root held his hand loosely and leaned back against the passenger door. He looked good, despite the emergency. He had a nice haircut and his face was freshly shaved. He seemed to be thriving without her, happy with Harold and Grace. She wasn't sure how she felt about it. If she'd still had Sameen, she'd probably be happy for him.

He finally had the life he wanted and she was admitting her failure and leaving New York. At least, she had planned to. He glanced at her.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "For everything. I should have told you much, much sooner."

Root sighed, turning her head to watch the dark city. "I'm sorry, too. For cheating. For just leaving." She smirked. "For hitting you."

He chuckled. "Barely felt it. Besides, I deserved it."

"Yeah, you did."

They settled back into silence as they reached the edge of the city and started down the road to John's house. Root's heart was still racing, but she tried to remind herself that at least she was going to see Sameen. Sameen was going to get better and they were going to talk. Root would stay until they could talk.

"Thank you for coming to get me."

John nodded, his hand tightening around hers. "Of course."

She wondered if she should feel apprehensive about returning to John's house. It was the site of most of her pain, but it was also where so many good things had happened. Maybe she'd be uncomfortable when her fear for Sameen's life had faded. Something John had said caught up to her.

"Harold's doctor?" she asked, twisting in her seat to look at him. "Is Harold with her?"

John looked guilty for a moment. "He is. I was at his house when Shaw arrived and Harold called a doctor he knew to come look at her."

"Is she still at Harold's?"

"Yes." John glanced at her and away again as they passed the Texaco. "Please don't be too upset at me. We didn't want to move her in her current state. As soon as it's safe, we'll move her to my house and you can stay with her there. I mean, you can stay at my house now, obviously, but-"

"It's alright." Root looked out the windshield, watching the stop sign that marked John's road grow closer. "Whatever is best for Sameen."

A few hours ago, Root was sure that she was never going to see these people again or go to these places. Suddenly, for a terrible reason, she was thrust back into her old life. A part of her wanted to run away, just get out of the car and walk back to the city. She wanted to avoid the awkwardness and potential pain.

A larger part of her was happy to have a chance to see Sameen again, even in this condition. Root was ready to talk to her, apologize, and move forward. Unless Sameen didn't want to see or talk to her. When she woke, would Shaw demand that Root leave? Would she break Root's heart again?

The car stopped and Root realized that they were in John's driveway. Her thoughts of the future disappeared and she released John's hand so she could jump out of the car. Leaving the door open, she ran around the car, across Harold's yard, and up onto his porch. She pulled the unlocked door open and rushed inside before realizing that she didn't know where Sameen was.

Grace appeared from the master bedroom. When she saw Root, she gestured for her to come. "She's in here."

Root hurried past her, eyes falling on Sameen's unconscious body laying on the large bed. She moved to the other side and gingerly climbed on, crawling as unobtrusively as possible to Sameen. Looking at her, Root's heart clenched painfully.

The first thing she noticed was how long Sameen's hair was, like she hadn't cut it in the month and a half they'd been apart. Someone had put a headband on her, pushing her bangs back. It was cute, Root thought, brushing a hand over thick, dark hair.

Steeling herself, Root's eyes dropped to Sameen's face. The right side of her face was riddled with small scratches and covered in a dark purple bruise. Root could guess that it had been slammed against something. A piece of gauze had been placed over the scratches beside her nose, so it could be taped without hurting her. The tape had been stretched to her ear to reach some uninjured skin.

Lifting the blanket that covered her, Root held back a sob. Instead of Sameen's usual chest wrap, she was bound from her armpits to her waist in crisp, white bandages. There was no blood, but that didn't make Root feel any better. If anything, it made her feel worse. John had said she had cracked ribs. How bad was her bruising beneath that linen?

Her arms were bare and Root could see the clear imprint of a large hand, as purple as her face. Root wanted to gut the man who did this to her. She wanted to tear the city apart until that man was dead. Instead, she lay beside Sameen and took her hand carefully.

"Miss Groves," Harold said quietly from the doorway. When Root looked at him, he gave her a sympathetic smile. "Why don't you take your boots off and have a cup of coffee with us in the kitchen?"

Surprised, Root looked at her feet. She'd forgotten about her boots and climbed right onto their bed. Turning back to Sameen, Root told herself that she wasn't waking up anytime soon and that she wasn't dying either. Root could take some time to get settled and then come back to her side.

With a shaky breath, Root nodded and slowly let Shaw's hand go. Leaning close to her ear, Root brushed her lips against the soft skin. "I'll be right back."

She gently got off the bed, making sure she didn't jostle Sameen at all. Once she was standing, she followed the others into the kitchen. She felt strange, like none of this was real and she was going to wake up on her couch with a spilled bowl of ice cream and Dick Clark's too close face on the television.

Walking into the kitchen, she looked around, not sure what she should do. Grace appeared in front of her smiling, and guided her to the breakfast nook. Root slide into the cushioned booth. Lifting a foot onto the seat, she began untying her laces. It felt silly to take them off when she'd only just put them on.

"How do you take your coffee?" Grace asked her.

John moved to the coffeemaker. "I know," he said quietly. "I'll do it."

Root stared at him, mindlessly pulling her shoe off. He knew how she took her coffee? That seemed even stranger than being in Harold's house. She couldn't remember a time when he'd made her a cup. Pulling her eyes away from him, she dropped her boot to the floor and started unlacing the other one.

Harold sat in the booth beside her. "The doctor says she'll recover, but it may take a couple of weeks."

"Okay." Root pulled her other boot off and let it fall to the floor, too. A mug of coffee, the exact shade of beige she loved, was placed in front of her and she smiled weakly at John. "Thank you."

He just nodded and sat across from her. Grace sat beside him, eyes flicking between Harold and John. Root took a cautious sip of her coffee. It was perfect. The silence stretched between them and she took another sip.

"Do you know who those men might be?" John asked her. "The ones who brought her."

Root knew exactly who they were. "No."

Harold sighed heavily, placing his forearms on the table. "I'll ask around and see what I can glean. A beating that bad must have caught some attention." He winced and looked at Root. "I'm sorry."

Putting her mug down, Root shrugged. "Do your worst, Harold." She turned her hollow eyes in his direction. "Make them pay for this."

Something passed across his face and he raised his eyebrows. "I will, Miss Groves."

Drinking her coffee again, Root thought about what would happen if Harold found out about Elias, about Zoe, about Root's deal. He would probably handle it, or at least come to her first before bringing the federal government down on her head. He should remember that she has as much power over him as he had over her.

Finishing her coffee, she set the mug on the table. "I should get back to Sameen. In case she wakes up."

Harold rose stiffly from the booth and allowed her to follow. She left her boots where they were. The only thing that mattered to her was being with Sameen while she recovered. Ignoring the others, she left the kitchen and walked to the master bedroom.

The carpet was soft under her bare feet, her toes sinking in with every step. She couldn't tell if it comforted her or made the situation worse. It hadn't been too long ago that she'd been unconscious in John's bed and Sameen had been tending to her. This time, there was a real chance that Sameen might never wake-up.

Walking into the bedroom, Root walked around the bed again and climbed back in. She slid under the covers, thankful that she was already in her pajamas. It was warm in the bed, Sameen's natural heat seeping into Root. Moving Sameen's hand under the blanket, Root wrapped both of her hands around it, holding on like it was her only lifeline.

She had been so ready to leave Sameen, but that was only because she'd assumed Sameen was happy and healthy somewhere else. Root couldn't imagine a world where Sameen was dead. Knowing that Sameen was traveling the country, causing trouble wherever she went, had given Root the confidence to do the same. If Sameen was still in New York, how was Root supposed to leave?

A groan startled Root and she pushed herself up onto her elbow to look down at Sameen. Slowly, Sameen's eyes blinked open and tried to focus. Root pushed her hair behind her ear so it stayed out of Sameen's face and the movement got Sameen's attention.

Dark, groggy eyes met Root's and, for a moment, Sameen smiled up at her. Then, her expression shifted. Her eyebrows drew down angrily and she scowled. Her hand pulled out of Root's and touched the bandages on her face.

"What happened?" she asked gruffly. She glanced at Root and away again. "What are you doing here?"

A knot formed in her stomach at the question. She swallowed hard. "You were in a fight," she answered, "we think. Two men brought you and your motorcycle to John's house."

Sameen snorted and then hissed as the movement hurt her nose. "That doesn't tell me why you're here."

"I…" Root felt like an idiot for rushing to Sameen's side when Sameen didn't even want her there. "John came to my apartment and told me what happened." She flushed, pushing the blanket away from her legs. "I can go."

"Wait." Sameen's hand caught her arm. When Root turned back to look at her, she was met with an unreadable gaze. "Why did you come with him?"

"Because," Root started before hesitating. Her blush deepened. "Because I love you. Because I wouldn't be able to live with myself knowing you were hurt and I had done nothing. Because I wanted to."

Sameen's face softened, the tips of her ears turning pink. She nodded and licked her lips. "You can stay."

When she let go of Root's arm, Root slipped back under the blanket, arranging it carefully. She lay on her side facing Sameen, waiting for her to say something else. After a long moment, Sameen's head fell to the side to look at Root. Like this, the bruise on her face was hidden by the pillow and Root could almost pretend this was a nice night.

"I attacked Zoe."

Root gasped, sitting up in shock. "What? Is that what happened?"

Rolling her eyes, Sameen tugged Root back down. "Her two hulking bodyguards happened."

"Why would you do that?"

Sameen hesitated, her hand still on Root's arm. "I was angry at her. For involving you with the mob. She shouldn't have done that." Her fingers plucked at Root's shirt. "I shouldn't have tried to jump her and… I shouldn't have left you."

Knowing that that was the best apology she was going to get, and recognizing how much Sameen must have thought about the situation to give one at all, Root smiled. "Thank you."

Sameen sniffed, wincing. "Whatever."

Reaching out, Root brushed her hand over Sameen's unmarred cheek. "I should have listened to you. You have so much more experience than I do and I got jealous of that. I want to be worldly and wild like you, but I'm just starting out again."

"You'll get there."

"I know," Root chuckled. "But I can take my time. If you want," she started, trying to sound light and casual, "we could take our time together."

Sameen took a deep breath and froze. Her free hand lifted the blanket to see the bandages around her chest. Frowning, she looked at Root.

"Damn. I really got the shit kicked out of me."

Root laughed, finding Sameen's ability to joke despite the dire situation incredibly endearing. She pulled the blanket back down. "Yeah. You did."

Sameen chuckled lightly and let Root tuck her in. Sighing, she smiled. "We can take our time. It's not going to be easy, but… I'd like to try."

"That's enough for me, Sameen." Root pressed a careful kiss to Sameen's lips and smiled down at her. "Let's start with tonight. We can figure it out from there."

"Sure thing," Sameen breathed, her eyes fluttering shut. "Sleep tight, wild girl."


	25. Many Rivers To Cross

Shaw took a sip of her beer, watching Root swirl onions and carrots around a pan. It had been two weeks since they'd reconnected and things had been going surprisingly well. Because Shaw was still recovering from her fight, they hadn't had sex. Instead, they'd spent their time at Reese's house watching television, playing cards, and taking walks.

Neither of them were working, and they couldn't distract themselves with sex, so they'd spent some time talking to each other. It had all been surface-level, but still - talking at all was good.. They weren't hiding their relationship or celebrating it and they were starting to get to know each other.

As hard as it had been, Shaw was a little bit glad they'd had time apart. Of course, that was easy to say now that they were back together. It had been terrible at the time. Glancing at her, Root covered her pan and stepped to the side to stir a pot of pasta sauce. Shaw smiled and sat back against the breakfast nook's cushions.

Their time apart had really made Shaw look hard at her life and decide what the important things were. She'd been ready to run away from her problems, but she'd had some sense knocked into her. Literally. The fact that Root had rushed to her side made Shaw feel even guiltier for leaving her again and again.

The two weeks they'd spent talking about books and music and embarrassing stories about Reese had been a breath of fresh air. Shaw had realized that, even though she knew she liked Root, she hadn't understood just how incredible she was. Root was more than just a woman trying to act wild. Shaw finally felt like she got that.

Root had paid attention to Shaw and tried to share her life and Shaw had just followed her interest, letting her attraction and fascination lead her into the relationship, but these weeks had only proven that Shaw's interest in Root was grounded in something real. It wasn't about the danger of sneaking around. It wasn't about the satisfaction of seducing a "good girl." It was about Root. It had always been about Root.

"What?" Root asked, pulling a spoon from the drawer beside the oven. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Shaw blinked, surprised. "Uh. Like what?"

"Like you…" Blushing, Root looked away. "Nevermind."

Shaw took another sip of beer, ignoring the twinge in her ribs, and schooled her face. They hadn't talked about the fact that Root had said "I love you." Shaw didn't know what to say to that. She just couldn't love Root back in the same way. She'd known for a long time that she didn't feel things the same way as other people, but sometimes she wanted to. How were they supposed to be together if she couldn't return Root's affections?

"If…" Her voice caught in her throat. Coughing into her fist, Shaw pulled her legs up onto the seat, crossing them in front of her. She watched Root taste a spoonful of sauce and hum with satisfaction. She tried again. "What if I never love you as much as you love me?"

Root jumped as if Shaw had screamed. The spoon fell from her hand and landed in the sauce. Wincing, Root glanced at Shaw before focusing on digging the spoon out. "Give me a minute."

Shaw took a drink and crossed her arms. Root tossed the spoon into the sink with a loud clatter and quickly transferred the pasta she'd made from the colander to the sauce pot. She added the vegetables and expertly mixed it all together. Throwing a cabinet open, she pulled down two bowls, filled them with food, picked two forks out of their drawer, and carried it all to the breakfast nook.

Shaw could practically hear the gears spinning in her mind and she placed Shaw's bowl in front of her and sat opposite. With a sigh, Root tied her long hair up with a thin tie. When she was finally set, she looked at Shaw.

"I don't expect you to."

"But you want me to," Shaw said, filling in the blank. "You want me to be a good girlfriend."

Root smiled fondly. "I want you to be a good girlfriend. I also want you to be yourself. I'm not expecting you to write me love poems or call me 'baby' or be sweet all the time. I just want you to do your best." Her eyeslashes fluttered. "I want you to talk to me."

Picking up her fork, Shaw used her pasta as an excuse to look away from the spotlight of Root's gaze. "I can talk to you."

"Good," Root chuckled. She spun her fork through her spaghetti before chuckling again. "Tell me about what you did while we were apart."

Shaw suddenly remembered Kelli and quickly stuffed her mouth with pasta. Her ribs hurt as she hunched forward to shovel food into her face, but she ignored the pain in favor of delaying this particular part of the conversation. She'd spent their time apart burying her feelings between other women's legs. She nervously scarfed down her pasta and tried to think of something else to say. Maybe "drinking" would suffice? She could bring up the softball uniforms?

"Oh," Root muttered, picking up a forkful of pasta. "I see."

Swallowing hard, Shaw looked up at her. "I… picked up some companions. One night stands. Nothing serious. It didn't feel good and it didn't help me get over you." Root ate her pasta quietly and Shaw watched her, waiting for a response. Hating the silence, Shaw tried something else. "You dated Claire, right? That's kind of the same."

Putting her fork down, Root raised an eyebrow. "I did not date Claire. We were just friends."

"Oh." Shaw couldn't help the smile that spread on her face. "Good."

"If only I could say the same for you."

Shaw suddenly regretted her impulse to talk. What if she'd ruined their newfound friendship because she needed assurance that Root wasn't going to ask for more than she had to give? Root glared at her across the booth, eyes frosty. Shaw felt her calm mask slip.

"Root, I-"

The frosty glare cracked and Root started laughing loudly, covering her eyes with her hand. "You looked so worried!" she cackled. "You thought I was mad!"

Shaw rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "I was just trying to avoid disaster. I would die if I had to ask Reese to stay here any longer."

"God forbid!" Root's laughter calmed down and she rested her arms on the table, grinning at Shaw. "It was actually kind of nice to see. You really don't want to lose me again, do you?"

"I do not," Shaw confirmed, looking down at the pasta cooling in her bowl. Seeing Root grin made her stomach warm. It might not be a big feeling, but Shaw knew it was a good sign. She was only going to do things that made her happy, and Root made her incredibly happy. With a smile, she met Root's eyes. "You're not upset?"

Root shrugged. "I'm not thrilled, but I guess I understand. I threw myself into work to try and pretend I wasn't upset. I can't blame you for finding something to distract yourself."

"Thanks." Shaw dropped her arms onto the table. It felt weird to just talk about what was happening, but wasn't that the whole point of trying again? They were taking it slow. She wished her ribs didn't hurt as much, so they could take it just a little bit faster and have sex again. Still, it was better to talk about this now than have it come out later and cause problems.

"Do you still want to leave New York?" Root asked, picking up her fork again. "I bought a house in Colorado. It has a lot of land. We could try our hand at farming? Maybe get that black stallion after all?"

"Colorado? Doesn't it get cold there?"

Root laughed again, shaking her head. "So does New York."

Pursing her lips, Shaw rolled her eyes. "Well, I haven't experienced that, have I? Besides, farming? What about computers?"

"I can work from the house," Root answered. "I'm thinking about working on a new car. I'm a little burnt out on punch cards and telephone wires. You could… help me?"

The thought of living in a big house with Root, working on cars and out in the sun, was a great one. Shaw could pay Root back for the house, and for everything else, by helping with her tech work and growing food. Maybe Shaw would be good at it. Maybe she could sell some and make some money for herself. She would do absolutely anything to avoid being a burden again.

It was a big decision to move across the country, again, with someone she hadn't even known a year. It was rash and probably irresponsible. Shaw looked across the table at Root, who was carefully twirling spaghetti onto her fork, her brow furrowed in concentration. Rash or not, right now Shaw couldn't imagine being away from Root again.

She'd been searching for a purpose for so long and maybe she'd finally found one. Hadn't she kicked herself for not protecting Root? Wasn't she leaving New York because of how hollow it had felt without her? Wasn't she sitting here with a bruised face and broken ribs because she'd attacked two grown men, just because they'd known someone who had hurt Root?

Shaw liked the way Root pushed her to be better and the way that Root managed to make her happy without any effort. She'd been directionless before she'd moved here and met Root. It must mean something that her whole world had shifted to put Root at the center. Root loved her how she was, but Shaw wanted to keep striving to be the best person that she could be, and she was best when she was with Root.

Root actually saw Shaw and saw her potential. She let Shaw show her new things and Shaw actually enjoyed taking Root along with her. Root thought she was hardworking enough to run a farm, to help invent things with her. Root wanted to hear her opinion, work together. Shaw knew that Root respected her and genuinely wanted to live and work side by side. Shaw's heart beat hard in her chest.

"Yeah," she finally said quietly, meeting Root's big, hopeful eyes. "We can help each other."

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Root heard laughter coming from her apartment as she exited the elevator. A smile spread across her face even as she recognized that they were probably annoying her neighbors. She couldn't really bring herself to care. It was her last day in the apartment and their feelings meant nothing. She hooked her sunglasses into the neck of her t-shirt. Spinning her key ring, with its single key, around her finger, she listened to the laughter, picking out Sameen's easily.

Behind her, Harold sighed. "She isn't fully healed. She shouldn't be laughing so hard."

Root glanced over her shoulder in time to see John nudge Harold with his elbow. "It's been almost a month," John said, smiling. "I'm surprised you've been able to keep her still for so long."

"That's mostly my doing," Root bragged. "You put her in front of a sports game or a horror movie and she won't even blink for two hours."

She and John smiled at each other fondly. They'd become friendly while Root was staying at his house to care for Sameen. She would probably never fully forgive him for wasting years of her life, but she couldn't erase the care she had for him either. Pen pals was going to be the best arrangement.

They reached the door to Root's apartment and she let herself in. Sameen, Joss, and Lionel were sitting in the living room, drinking beer. Root had limited her to one because she didn't want to start their roadtrip dealing with a drunk and handsy girlfriend. As fun as it would be, Sameen still wasn't healed enough for sex and Root knew they'd both just end up frustrated. Stopping in the entranceway, Root stepped out of her hastily put on sneakers and smiled at the group.

"If I was still living here," Root joked, "I'd tell you to be quiet, but I'm not, so I don't care."

"I'll say it," Harold chimed in, making the others roll their eyes. "Don't strain your ribs."

Sameen shifted on the couch, winking at Root before giving Harold a mock-serious salute. "No strain here, Captain. Haven't you heard that laughter is the best medicine?"

Root chuckled and tossed Lionel her key. He caught it and looked up at her questioningly. Sameen punched him hard in the arm as Root explained.

"This is your place now, Lionel! I'm sure you're tired of living with your mother. Have fun dealing with the neighbors."

Lionel's mouth dropped open. "What?"

"I'm not using it anymore," Root answered, shrugging. "All the furniture is staying. It seems a waste to just sell it. It's so close to the Black Cherry. I'm sure you'll be inundated with drunk homosexuals begging you to let them crash."

"You're moving up in the world, dumbo," Sameen added, shaking his shoulders. "We're paying for it, so don't have a heart attack."

He looked like he was about to cry, but he flung his arms around Sameen, ignoring her cry of pain. "Thanks, shortstacks. I owe you."

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered. Squirming, she tried to break out of his grip, but couldn't. Instead, she turned to Joss. "Can you get this brute off me?"

Joss just grinned, raising an eyebrow. "No."

Root took in the tableau of Sameen struggling against Lionel and Joss laughing at the both of them. She knew that Sameen was going to miss them and the rest of the gang at the bar. Their new house had a couple guestrooms, and Root would insist on inviting them over a couple times a year. Despite her prickly attitude, Sameen seemed to find friends wherever she went and she'd have a new bar crowd soon enough.

John's hand came to rest on Root's shoulder and she looked up at him. "I'm happy for you," he said softly. "I couldn't give you the life you wanted, but she can and she will. Sameen doesn't hold on to a lot of people. She saw something special in you. I'm sorry that I didn't."

"It's ok," Root sighed, giving him a hug. "You gave me Sameen. I can't thank you enough for that."

"Just…" John took a deep breath and pulled away to look down at Root. "Take care of her? Stick with her?"

Root nodded, her eyes watering. "Forever."

Harold cleared his throat and Root turned to give him a hug as well. He was stiff beneath her arms, but he patted her back affectionately. "Keep me updated on your work," he said as they separated. "Let me know if there's anything I can fund."

Raising an eyebrow, Root pointed a finger at his face. "I'll take you up on that, Harold. Don't think I won't."

They smiled at each other for a moment. Root was surprised to find that she might miss New York. Now that she wasn't leaving with as much bitterness as she would have before, it was easier to remember the good times that had happened here. She and Harold had talked some over the last month and, while Root was still furious with him, she would always remember how much he'd supported her work.

Turning, she saw Lionel and Joss help Sameen stand. They'd gathered at Root's apartment to say goodbye, but Root knew that Sameen wasn't going to stick around for any sort of speech or celebration. She was ready to hit the road, just like Root.

"Alright," Sameen said loudly, knocking her friends hands away. "I'm not elderly. I can stand on my own!"

She glared at everyone as she stood, huffing. Her eyes softened as they met Root's and she shrugged awkwardly. Root knew that Sameen appreciated her friends' worrying, but didn't like being dependent on anyone else. They'd spent so much time talking about the future, making sure they were on the same page. They weren't going to fall apart again because they weren't listening to each other.

Sameen crossed to room and stopped at Root's side. "Is the car all packed?"

Raising an eyebrow, Root smirked knowingly. "Your bike is securely fastened to the bed. She's not going anywhere."

"Good," Sameen said, crossing her arms. "If she gets one scratch, I'll kill you and dump your body somewhere in Utah."

"That's cute." Root pressed a quick kiss to Sameen's forehead. "You're so scary."

The group laughed and Root headed for the door. She was anxious to be on the road and she knew that Sameen was, too. Her boxes had been at her house for weeks now and she missed her books and music. She hoped Sameen would be completely healed by the time they got to Colorado, so she could do all the heavy lifting.

Root led the group to the elevators, listening to Lionel lock the apartment door behind them. It was good that she could give him something. It was really a gift for everyone at the Black Cherry, just like the softball uniforms she'd bought them. They'd changed her life, and Sameen's.

Behind her, she heard Sameen snort. "Hey, I have a question, Harry."

The nickname almost made Root laugh out loud and she had to glance over her shoulder to see his response. His face was red, darkening when he saw John's amused grin. Root turned away before Harold saw her smiling and had a heart attack.

"Yes?" he asked weakly.

"Is Reese any good in bed?"

At that, a loud barking laugh ripped out of Root and she jogged forward to press the elevator button. Harold was sputtering, panicked, and the grin had been wiped from his face, a stricken look replacing it. Sameen, Joss, and Lionel were grinning wickedly, obviously having planned the attack.

"What?" Reese gasped as the elevator doors opened. "Why would you ask that?"

"Take a deep breath, John," Root suggested, leading the small crowd into the elevator. Sameen dashed forward to stand beside her. Root draped her arm around her shoulders, tugging her close. "She's just avoiding a sentimental goodbye."

As the elevator doors closed and they started their descent, Sameen's hand slid into Root's back pocket, squeezing lightly. Root jumped, turning the attention to her. She coughed and waved her hand dismissively.

"I just… remembered something funny."

Sameen gave her another squeeze. "You never answered my question, Harry. I gotta make sure he's keeping up with Mayhem Boy standards."

"He's…" Harold coughed into his hands. "Yes. He is."

The elevator doors opened and Harold moved as quickly as he could. Root knew he would have sprinted away if he could have. John glared at Sameen, his eyes betraying his amusement, before following. Root pulled her arm away from Sameen and led them out of the elevator.

"You're a menace," Joss joked to Sameen. "Stop giving him grief."

"If not now, when?"

Root's smile flagged a little bit. That was a good question. They were leaving forever. Root would miss New York City, but she had no interest in ever returning. John and Harold, even Grace, could visit them in Colorado. The house was certainly big enough.

They walked out of the building into the hot July air and Root squinted into the sun. Pulling her sunglasses off her shirt, she opened them and slid them onto her face. A gentle breeze swirled around her, tugging at her hair. She was happy that they were leaving on such a nice day. It was a good omen.

She'd parked her car in front of the building, parking miraculously available. Another good omen. It was a brand new Ford F-100. It would be good for Sameen to have a practical car for farming, but that didn't mean it couldn't be fast and beautiful, too. John had helped her with Sameen's bike and the last of the boxes.

A hand reached into her pants' pocket and she turned to the side to see Sameen pulling out the car key. She gave Root a devilish grin. Raising an eyebrow, Root snatched it away and pointed at the passenger side door.

"You can't drive in your condition. Get in and buckle your seatbelt."

Rolling her eyes, Sameen headed toward the back of the truck. Joss and Lionel trailed after her and they all inspected her bike. It was tied down between the Root's boxes and Sameen's duffelbag. She hears them murmur approvingly at the car.

Root sighed and turned around to smile and John and Harold one last time. "I guess this is goodbye, boys. Thanks for the good times."

"Yeah," John said almost inaudibly. Suddenly, he tugged Root in for a crushing hug. She winced, but hugged him back. "Call every night so I know you're safe."

"I will," she gasped, pushing on his chest and breaking the hug. She held a hand out to Harold. "Take care of him."

Nodding, he took her hand and shook it. "I will," he said, echoing her. He raised his eyebrows and took a deep breath. "Wow, I can't believe how much has changed."

"Time slows for no one," Root replied. "All-in-all, we've built ourselves a good life, haven't we?"

A sad smile crossed his face. "We have."

Sameen appeared at her side again and eyed John warily. "Don't hug me."

He nodded solemnly before reaching out and tossing her hair. She ducked backwards out of his reach and waved a threatening fist in his direction. With a sharp glare at Harold, she yanked the key from Root's hand and unlocked the passenger door. Groaning, she reached across the bench seat and pushed up the lock on the other side.

"Come on," she said, rolling down the window as quickly as she could. "We're burning daylight here."

Chuckling, Root turned to Joss and Lionel. Stepping forward, Lionel wrapped her in a bear hug, lifting her off the ground. Root patted him on the back as he lowered her again.

"Keep a sharp eye on the bar for me and Sameen," Root ordered, patting his arm. "Don't let those drunken idiots get too crazy."

He just nodded as Joss moved forward, arms open. "My turn." They hugged and Joss whispered into Root's ear. "Take care of her. She needs you more than she can say." Pressing a quick kiss to Root's cheek, Joss released Root and turned to the car. "Roll up that window," she ordered. "You're going to let the bugs in and the air out. Your girl didn't spend all that extra money for you to waste it."

Sameen squinted. She held up her middle finger and rolled the window up with her free hand. The group laughed. Shaking her head, Root gave them a wave and walked around the front of the car to the driver's side. Climbing in, she took the key from Sameen, sticking it into the ignition, pressing on the brake, and starting the car.

It roared to life satisfyingly. Root buckled her seatbelt as Sameen ran her hands lovingly over the dashboard. By the time they arrived in Colorado, Sameen was going to have a laundry list of ideas on things they could improve. Root was looking forward to it.

They waved at their friends one last time and Root pulled away from the curb into the street. There was a map in the glove compartment, but neither of them could bring themselves to care about directions right away. As long as they kept heading west, they'd get there eventually.

Root slowed to a stop at a red light and looked at Sameen. "Excited?"

"I am," Sameen confirmed. She glanced at Root, the tips of her ears turning pink. Pulling a foot up onto the seat, she started untying her laces. "Turn the cool air on."

Root felt her heart pound in her chest as she watched Sameen take her shoes off. She was getting comfortable in their car, in their new life. Together. They had started so stiffly, so sure they weren't going to be friends or get along at all. Through months of self-discovery, Root had become someone that she could live with, and so had Sameen.

She knew that there were going to be more fights, more screaming and crying, but that was ok. Sameen would always come back to her and she would always go back to Sameen. This time, as they headed out of the city, toward the great unknown, they were moving forward as equals. They could figure the rest of it out together.

"Hey," Sameen said, sitting back and stretching her feet up onto the dashboard, "I'm starving. Can we get cheeseburgers?"


End file.
